The Warriors Within
by kalikaqetesh
Summary: Cato's participation in The Hunger Games and what happens when stone meets fire. Several chapters will be similar to the books, but indefinitely change to AU. All characters belong to Suzanne Collins. "M" for when the characters take control.
1. Chapter 1

Cato slid his finger over the edge of the spear, daring the sharp metal to pierce his skin. Not even the spear dared oppose him and, with the type of smug smirk only a career can muster in the games, he lifted the weapon and flung it with ease. The spear shot forward and slammed dead center into the human outline used as a target. His expression didn't alter from the same self-important look it had portrayed prior to his achievement. There were no missing targets in his world, to be perfect was the only path to take and anything less was total failure.

A scoff sounded to his left, causing an eyebrow to immediately lift, his head remaining steadfastly faced toward the target. Marvel's voice rose up from the silence.

"I think you're a centimeter off. Losing your game, Cato?"

The double entendre wasn't lost on Cato, who finally turned to face his ally and opponent.

"Willing to be the guinea pig to see if that would make a difference, Marvel?" He responded, the upward turning of his lips looking more like a wolf anticipating blood than a joking gesture.

Marvel's right eye subtly twitched; his only outward showing of fear. After that he waved the spear clutched in his own hand, lifting and aiming before throwing it with a vengeance. The weapon struck at the inner edge of the circle under discussion, causing a disgusted frown to cross his face before he stormed away. The predatory look on Cato's face remained until Marvel was out of sight. He moved to pick a sword for further training when movement nearby immediately triggered his attention.

Katniss, the volunteer from 12, was attempting to knot a rope as she walked, remaining unsuccessful even while moving with a stealthy grace he could admire. He wasn't sure how to take her. So far her skill set left nothing to consider a threat, but inwardly he was hesitant to dismiss her so readily.

Suddenly her gaze turned toward him, slight discomfort crossing her face at his scrutiny. Her back straightened and she increased her pace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of confronting or antagonizing her. Cato's face remained impassive and he turned away, reaching for a heavy sword from the rack and moved toward the mini army of mannequins even as his thoughts remained on the slum girl who volunteered

* * *

Cato watched the screen closely, the silence in the room a result of the warrior lifestyle all in the room represented. Marvel's score would have made him laugh if he wasn't so concerned his own would barely pass muster. His worried contemplation was cut short when his own face slid to the screen. An inhaled breath strengthened him until the relief of the number 10 filling his vision ended the agony. Approving nods came from the otherwise stoic figures around him, but he paid little attention to them as he relished the victory. So far he and Clove were the highest scoring tributes, not completely surprising to him, but it would give him the respect of his district and potentially more sponsors. All he needed was a parachute here and there and there would be no way for him to lose. He ignored the faint twinge of regret he felt knowing even Clove would have to fall for him to win, but he refused to contemplate any other result.

Instead he continued to form a tactical plan, hardly concerned with the outer districts scores (although he was slightly tempted to peek at the score from the male in 11). It wasn't until sharp inhalations around him forced his attention back to the screen in time to see the number 11 dissipate along with the unsmiling visage of Katniss Everdeen.

"How did that scum get an 11?" Clove snarled beside him. "I can't imagine the judge's willing to sleep with dirt like that."

Cato experienced a moment of irritation directed solely at Clove, though he refused to acknowledge why. As soon as had felt it, the emotion flickered out, beaten into oblivion by his pride and the blatantly displeased expressions surrounding him. How did she get that score? What talents was she hiding and of what was she capable? He almost would have admired her if his hands weren't involuntarily itching and curling to be around her throat. The questions swirled within his mind, an angry growing beast uncurling from within, demanding to be the best and to dominate those who might threaten him.

"Your father is barely going to be able to lift his head after this." His mentor muttered, a lip curled in disgust both at him and what he believed to be an error in the judge's results. "You make sure to kill the girl as soon as possible or your own district is going to think you a worthless fool."

* * *

_Cato hefted the axe high into the air, his eyes focused on the thin trunk of the tree barely visible behind the line of thicker, heftier trees before it. He breathed in slowly, chest rising and falling as little as possible in order to keep his form from shifting out of place. The muscles in his arms burned, the result of hours at this task with few opportunities to rest. With a low growl he dropped the axe back enough to build up counter-momentum before heaving the axe forward. It glinted in the harsh sun before flipping between the trunks already barely several marks and planted firmly within the flesh of the target tree. He would have grinned if not for the gulping breaths he was taking after the prolonged moment of shallow sips of air._

_"Fine enough. It took too long this time. Remember, in the time you wasted staring down that tree, your enemy could have spotted and unleashed something at you. Time and accuracy, accuracy and time. They are interwoven and both are necessary for you to get out of there alive."_

_Cato turned toward the speaker, his father, who lounged nearby. His body was still powerful, barely contained strength and an aggressive nature that made him even less tolerable. Cato only nodded respectfully in response, knowing to take the criticism and advice with solemn silence rather than risk his father detecting his irritation._

_"Now do it again. And make it worth seeing this time."_

_Another nod before grabbing the last axe from the stand, agony shot up his arms at the weight. He had the feeling if his muscles were capable of sound, he would hear the screams as they tore and strained to continue his training. Another full breath before he heaved the axe up again, feeling the burn of his exhaustion like a knife scraping through him. His breathing became subtle again and he focused fully on the trunk. Aim. Throw. Hit, but farther to the side._

_A sigh from his father._

_"You know what's so brilliant about the Games?" The now blatantly blasé voice said from the shade, "The only one worth anything goes home, the rest are expunged from this Earth like the waste they are. Prove your worth to the world, Cato, since you haven't proven it to me."_

_With that his father stood and left him standing there, a lone figure in pain whose only solace came when his achievements made the District swoon in pleasure._

* * *

He awoke, sweat running from his forehead, slipping from every pore in his body and sticking the sheets to every curve. The unbearable heat made him fling the covers away, a grunt of anger emitting as he nearly slammed his feet to the floor. It was a cruel joke to be from a Career District. You were treated like champions when the cameras were aimed, but like a bumbling soldier, still wet behind the ears and more likely to get your comrades killed, when no one was there to witness your humiliation. If you weren't the absolute best, and that included amongst those of your own district, then you might as well go digging in the mines of 12 for all the worth you had to offer.

Cato looked to the windows; still hearing the cheers of the Capital citizens watching re-runs of past victories in the Games. Deep down, when no one was there to see him, he wondered if it would be his death that the world watched in years to come.

* * *

**This is my first fan fiction ever, so I'm a little nervous. I have some interesting plans in the future for this, so hopefully all of you enjoy taking this journey with me!**


	2. Chapter 2

"_Even though people follow gold_

_Doesn't mean it shines in the dark._

_If we all do just what we're told_

_Doesn't mean you'll find a spark_."

Marcus Foster – "Solid Ground"

* * *

Thank you so much for all of your support! All of you make me so happy. :) Keep in mind, any changes I have made to the original story is to keep the flow going for what I have planned. I hope all of you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. All reviews are welcome, please!

* * *

He could hear the cheers shaking the very foundations of the building until the resonating sound created a beat to which they could stomp and clap. Every few moments there would be a silence and the quieter tones of Caesar and Glimmer before another onslaught of ruckus began. Cato tuned out the sounds, uncaring of what was being said, knowing Glimmer was looks and a lethal nature with nothing else to fill in the gaps. Not her, though, he pondered, his attention drifting to the girl standing alone and fidgeting with a tier in her dress. The lights of the room glinted off of the jewels adorning her, reflecting upon every available surface as though her very presence caused the whole room to glow.

Cato's eyebrow lifted, this time at himself and his own inward thoughts. Where had that even come from? She was District 12 scum, the dirt of their existence was something that soap and hard scrubbing could never wash away. And soon it would be her blood sparkling upon the floor, not artificial fire.

Though as he sneaked another peek at her, he couldn't help but notice that the girl confidently holding her arms in triumph towards the sky was now replaced with a very human female almost seeming to panic at what was about to happen. He held on to that, almost relishing the sight of it. Fear was something he was very well accustomed to witnessing and it was fuel for him to be able to turn away again, focusing on the crowds fluctuations of gasps and sighs, noticing only Clove was ahead of him now.

Re-ignited, he waited impatiently for his time chance to woo the audience, knowing his family would be watching… and judging. He almost envied Katniss, for even though she had the most to lose, there was someone who was hoping for her to win. Not because death would be shaming to them or because they had spent their entire lives dedicated only to putting a beast into the arena, but because they loved her and she was wanted, just for being herself.

_"You know what's so brilliant about the Games? The only one worth anything goes home, the rest are expunged from this Earth like the waste they are."_

Cato's eyes closed, teeth involuntarily clenching at the memory of the words that had killed a little piece of the humanity he had left. The dynamics of their relationship had never been what one would call nourishing and an unwanted memory came to mind of the last time he saw his father.

_They were standing in the meeting room alone, neither saying goodbye, one because he did not know how to say it and the other not feeling a goodbye was necessary. Cato waited, looking for a signal from his father as to what to say. Every excruciating training session and lesson on the Games had led him to this moment, this parting, and this chance. Would his father finally show him affection now that this could be their last words?_

_"Be flashy with your kills, but quick. They want a show to remember but theatrics will give your opponent time to get their attempt in." His father said, each word punctuating a hit to his heart that fell lower and lower until his stomach was consuming his love. "Return a victor or die a waste." He finished, leaving Cato without any gesture of kindness or sign that they shared blood at all. The door clicked behind him and the young man was left staring at the handle that symbolized the permanent fixture between the two men who never knew each other, and never really will._

"Cato, your turn." The assistant stated gently, knowing better than to challenge a Career. Though the tributes were not allowed to battle off the grounds, that did not mean a short fuse was worth being inspected by a match.

He gave a brisk nod in response before following her up to the stage. His name was emphatically being called out by Caesar as he approached, the greeting made it easier to present the crowd with a genuine smile. After noticing a few additional fans being lifted and frantically fluttered, his smile became more of a knowing smirk directed toward the frazzled female population.

Caesar met him with a handshake, surprising Cato with the strength of his grip. He wondered briefly about Caesar's past and who the man must have "battled" to get where he was today. After a subtle cue he lowered himself into the seat, letting his frame leisurely slip back against the seat, stretching his arms up a little to the back of the chair. The result was a pumping up of his muscles and a stance both relaxed and yet ready to lift from the chair and attack. A show only, but he was ready to give the audience a glimpse of his lethal prowess.

"So Cato, volunteer from District 2. How are you feeling this evening?" Caesar asked genially, though his smile almost seemed to have a little too much shark teeth involved.

"I have spent my whole life watching the Games. Being here now is like a dream for me. I have been waiting a very long time to have the honour of fighting both for the Capital and my District." Cato responded with a subdued grin, his eyes roaming over the audience as though speaking to each person whose gaze he might catch. More fans waved through the air and there was a cheer as several stood to their feet, truly feeling as though he wanted to fight and possibly die simply to please them. Too schooled in controlling his face, Cato merely continued to smile, a fist rising to the capital as though excited along with them.

"What about a special lady back home? Is there anyone in particular you are trying to impress?"

Cato laughed, a few quick shakes of his head worked to dissipate that rumour before it started.

"No, I will be saving that for when I return home."

"Confidence, Cato! I LOVE that! I'm sure the ladies will be taking numbers for their chance to have you. Good luck. Cato, District 2 tribute, everyone!" Caesar grabbed one of Cato's arms as he went to lift, raising it up high as the audience jumped to their feet, praising the warrior ready to defend his district and their way of life. Soon he and Clove were making their way back to their rooms, Clove chattering off about the upcoming alliance decisions they had yet to finish making and which tributes they were going to take out first. She was still bruised from being surpassed by a worthless girl from an outer district. Inwardly he sighed, almost as tired of hearing others mention it as he was of thinking the very same thoughts, but somehow as irritated he was there was still another emotion he wasn't capable of identifying battling to win supremacy over the snobbery.

"I'm going to my room. Only one more night of a real bed before the fun begins. You might as well do the same, Clove, since you're small enough that someone's likely to take you out by stomping on you by accident." He looked her tiny stature up and down, eliciting a snarl from Clove before she moved away from him, secretly plotting at one point it would be his turn to face down her knives.

Silently Cato made his way to his room, immediately turning on the interviews to catch the remaining tributes. Thresh was finishing and Cato eyeballed the District 11 male, scrutinizing his capacity to win. There was no doubt this man was a strong contender and Cato knew it would be best to either make an attempt at an alliance or eliminate him as an enemy as soon as possible. He was broad, muscular, and there was no doubt he could snap a neck as easily as Cato. No use leaving someone like that lurking out there, regardless of how he lacked training in the actual art of murder.

Within moments Caesar's beckoning of "The Girl on Fire" caught Cato from his musings. The faintest response in his gut left him scowling at the screen, not wanting to investigate why his body was consistently reacting around her. Although as the interview went on, he allowed himself free reign to explore the planes of her face, the slope of her shoulders, the sheen playing upon her carefully coiffed hair. Alone, he didn't have to pretend watching her was becoming a favourite activity of his. Alone he didn't have to lie and say there was nothing more than battle tactics playing in his mind. His fingers could almost feel the smooth satin of her skin and the fullness of her lips, but his mind warred on with the knowledge that she would have to die for him to live, that if it wasn't by his hand someone with even more of a sadistic nature would come along, and likely make it more fun for themselves. Inhaling deeply, he shoved the darkness away, wanting this one moment where it was possible for him to live like anyone would have before this entire world was made this way.

Would he have met her if the districts weren't separated? Would she still be so strong and brave, would he still have become this man? This brute willing to take down any child in his way simply to see if his own father would finally smile at him? Suddenly she was standing, arms lifting as she spun. With the gasps of the audience echoing in his mind, Cato watched the smile twist her lips into a brief moment of pure joy, the flames licking up her skirt until she was like some sort of goddess. Beautiful enough to siren a man to her with ease until the fire consumed him alive. Deep inside where no person had been allowed to enter, Cato felt a little bit of that fire eating away at some of the darkness. And he relished it.

Then Peeta was up, confessing his childish love for her, replacing that brief stint of mystery affection into another scowl.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Cato muttered to himself, staring down the screen as if the man himself was before him, ready to be released from this world. "You have become enemy number one, Mr. Mellark." The only sound after that was the crashing echo as the remote slammed into the opposite wall, shattering into pieces that rained upon the floor. He longed instead to hear the breaking of each vertebra as they separated from one another in Peeta's body.

* * *

The following morning passed with a blur. Last minute preparations were taken, meals consumed for energy and advice dispensed. There was no warmth amongst anyone in the room, little camaraderie. Instead it was almost like a business transaction was about to take place and the older members of the party were ensuring nothing would hinder the final product. He was strong and ready to take down his enemies, but inside he almost wished he could experience what it was like to have someone worry FOR him instead of what he could bring to them. But it was too late for that now and Cato steeled himself, letting the venom of his upbringing course through his veins until his heart pumped furiously, succumbing to the primal nature inside as he relished the thought of laying waste to those who stood between him and ultimate victory.

The adrenaline only fueled him more as he stood on the platform, looking at each of the tributes despite the glaring sun. They were shaking, wide eyed, confused, and blank faced, or downright excited. They were all dead, just too stupid to lie down. And as the countdown flashed across from them, Cato thought of all of the people he wanted to make proud back home, of all the people who mattered to him despite never having shown him the same in kind.

5… his siblings.

4… his mother.

3… Clove.

2… Brutus.

1… his father.

… _**Katniss.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_"Friends can turn when things go wrong_

_Doesn't mean that it's their fault._

_We've all come here to help ourselves_

_To all the goods laid in the fall."_

Marcus Foster – Solid Ground

* * *

Immediately the switch was flipped and his body went into auto pilot. Legs and arms pumped, propelling him forward and straight to the sword standing up like something from a fairy tale, one centered around carnage, at least. His ears tuned in to the varying breaths around him, picking and discerning which ones he could trust (for now) from those that needed to end. Clove's was picked up first and he spun away from her, catching the sound of labored breathing from the other side. A girl, maybe 14, was frantically trying to heft up a machete to strike. What she didn't realize until too late was the length of time she took trying was the only time she would have. Cato dispensed with her in one swing of his sword, ending her fright so that the moment she saw him moving was the only realization she would have before it was all over.

He gave her body a brief nod, the only sign of remorse he would allow himself to show before he lunged to attack another tribute, this one a slightly older male, but equally as weak. The blood bath lasted mere seconds, a minute at most, but by the end the five careers stood in the middle of it all with weapons still dripping crimson upon the ground. Some had pure unadulterated joy on their faces, as though puppies were prancing around their feet rather than crumbled bodies gashed open, mouths screaming words that would never be heard.

Cato himself stood still, surveying the damage and their winnings. The primitive side of him wanted to toss his head back and bellow his triumph to the sky, and he knew the Capital would love the show. He contained the urge and looked to his momentary allies; all sprayed in some way with blood, though none seemed to mind or even notice.

He shifted his gaze in one seamless movement, detecting no other movement. The rest of the tributes had successfully fled from sight. Cato lowered the sword and finally spoke, the other Careers immediately closing their mouths in response.

"Gather all of the supplies, even the scattered ones. Pile them up over there," he gestured to the center of the open space around them. "Then we need it secure. You, Three," he jabbed his finger in the direction of the weak male in their group. Immediately District 3's male cowered a little, clearly trying to gain his strength back in his knees but failing miserably. This only enticed Cato to react even more strongly, overt weaknesses were something he never tolerated in anyone, least of all his allies. The last thing they needed was someone more likely to accidentally stab their own team mates when trying to aim for the target 20 feet away. Cato emitted a low growl, "You don't need to be reminded of what I will more than gladly do if you can't complete something so simple, Three" he warned in a low voice, staring down Three until the boy went to work. Cato then looked to Clove, who very much looked like the cat who found the cream. "Excited much, Clove? You might want to tuck it back a little, this is a family place." He remarked sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his team mate. As much as the adrenaline still made every muscle in his body sing in sweet exhaustion, extreme excitement in what they were doing so early on usually yielded terrible results.

His head rocked violently to the left then right, a series of pops echoed briefly as he groaned in relief. Some of the tension left him and his attention turned back to Three, who was carefully walking the perimeter, though still casting nervous glances in Cato's direction. With a grunt of disapproval, he walked in the opposite direction, peering into the forest. The trees were tall with thick trunks and plenty of places to disappear around and up. He detected little signs of wildlife and there were no distinct sounds of running water. They would definitely have to go out hunting for some additional supplies as well as the inevitably ending heartbeats of their opponents.

His arm lifted, finger beckoning to come to him. Cato felt, rather than saw, Clove following his silent order.

"We need to get out there before the others have time to scatter too far. Do you think Three can be trusted alone?"

"That sniveling wimp isn't a threat to us. No one will dare come back to the Cornucopia for at least another couple of days, especially since Three isn't exactly the silent type." They both turned, hearing Three talking out loud to himself as he formulated plans and struggled to keep his jellied limbs moving. "They'll think we're still here too with all the noise he's making." Cato nodded in agreement with her, shifting back to face the dense forest once again.

"I don't expect you to trust me, but I expect you to follow me, Clove." Cato warned without looking at her. He felt her tension, however, but didn't respond to it. Instead he allowed it to build for a moment before she sighed at him.

"What idiotic plan do you have now, Cato?"

"I want Loverboy in on the alliance." His predatory grin returned to his face, reveling in all the sick fantasies he had of ripping each appendage from Peeta's body. He didn't know where this intense hatred of the lovesick puppy was coming from, but he allowed the consequential power from it to strengthen his body with heated resolve to end his pathetic existence.

"Loverboy? That idiot will get one of us killed. Why the hell would you want him with us?"

"Who the hell else do you think is going to lead us straight to her?" Cato responded, finally turning his icy stare to Clove, whose mouth had gone tight with disagreement.

"Lead us to her? If we were following him, maybe, but why would he voluntarily serve her to us when we know he practically soaks through his shirt from drooling, let alone other places." She crudely finished, arms crossing.

"You think that act will be strong enough to carry him when he's staring down the end of a sword, Clove? I think if we have the opportunity to… reason… with him, we won't have a problem anymore."

Clove grinned, not necessarily agreeing with Cato, but she wouldn't mind dispatching of the lovesick fool if given the chance. Then again, she would have as much fun torturing any living creature if given the opportunity. There was no salvaging any tender feelings in her, but Cato didn't want or need that in a District team mate. Peeta would soon learn just what how big of a mistake such idiotic notions could be, especially when it was you against the world. He ignored the nagging feeling that he was really reminding himself, berating the same feelings emerging in himself that Peeta was so unafraid to let loose.

"Come on," Cato said abruptly, moving away from the woods. "Let's get the others and get out there. We'll get the stragglers still too close before they have time to get away and find supplies. Then we can wait out while some of the others prove just how worthless they are when left alone."

Cato found a sling for his sword and strapped it carefully to his hip, ensuring it was close enough to his hand that he could immediately grab it if unexpectedly faced with an adversary. Clove was tugging knives from her victims and replacing them within easy reach in her cloves. They had barely had time to clear away from the bodies before the hovercrafts came to pick up the lost tributes. Cato watched with interest, knowing better than to approach but wondering about the entire process of it all.

Once the obligatory cleansing had finished, the Careers set off, leaving Three behind to make himself useful before the temperamental lot lost their patience with his bumbling ways. More than once Cato had to silence their excited chatter, almost feeling like the leader of some troop of young adventurers finally getting their first chance at camping away from home.

"I just want my chance at that outer scum bitch!" He suddenly heard Clove exclaim, catching his attention after he had mentally checked out from their conversation. It was enough to stop him dead along with the other members of his party. At first they quit moving to look around, expectantly waiting for a sign that another tribute was nearby and the fun could continue. When complete stillness was their only greeting, four pairs of eyes turned questioningly toward him.

"When we find her, I kill her my own way, and no one interferes." His voice was low, merciless, and left no room for questioning. Disappointment mixed with growing mutiny stared back at him but none were ready to defy, not just yet. Satisfied his point had been made, Cato turned away and continued leading the trek through the woods. There was no way he would sit aside as another one took this chance from him to defeat the Girl on Fire, the only one who had bested him in rating. He imagined her eyes as life was choked from them, but just as quickly they glinted again with an impish delight. He could feel them looking straight into his own, delving into his mind and willing all his secrets to come forth. Then her lips turned up, full and glistening as she twirled by Caesar. The dress billowed, fire swirled and the glow cast a sparkle upon her face. He felt the heat of that fire traveling through his body, tightening his stomach and inching lower.

"Fucks sake," he growled at himself, shaking the vision from his skull. These types of interruptions were going to get him killed, or at least into the laughingstock of District 2. He could see all of them back home laughing at his puppy love state. _Focus, focus, FOCUS_ he screamed at himself. Suddenly a rustle stopped all of them dead, all humour abandoned their party as five hunters emerged and prepared. No other sound would follow, but Cato wasn't one to give up when blood was still in the water. He knew where the sound had come from.

With a raised hand he gestured his intentions and practically glided like a dancer over the ground, missing twigs and dried leaves to approach the source of the interruption. When finally he stood still, the others came to create a semi-circle around where he stood. Mere seconds passed before Cato lunged, a satisfied battle cry emerging from his lips as his hand collided with warm cloth and solid body. His fist clenched around a thick portion of fabric before he threw the power of his weight to the opposite direction, bringing his victim out from the shadows and tumbling to the ground. In the same movement his other hand reached and grabbed the handle of the sword, pulling it smoothly out and aiming at the pulsing vein in District 12 male's neck.

"Hello, loverboy," Cato smirked down at Peeta, who had lifted himself slightly on to his elbows before the sword had pressed into the vulnerable flesh of his neck. To his credit, Peeta said nothing and did not grovel. "Care to make a deal?"

* * *

**A short update today, but I wanted to keep things going!**


	4. Chapter 4

Took a little more leeway with this one than in stories passed, so hope none of my changes bother any of you! I loaned my copy of Hunger Games out, so I don't have a way of checking for exact quotations. Haha. Enjoy this one! There's a hint more spice to it. :)

* * *

"_Some people open doors_

_Others tear houses down._

_Some kids are prepared for wars_

_Others are frightened of the crown._

_Some streets come to an end_

_Others wind and know no bounds._

_I'm just trying to pretend I know how to tread on solid ground_."

Marcus Foster – Solid Ground

* * *

Their steps were soft, the leaves barely daring to crunch beneath their feet and no animals warned of their arrival. The Careers needed no words to know that the hunt was on, pure instincts had taken over. Their adopted stragglers were slightly less stealthy, and each Career took turns shooting a glare that could wither a rose when one took a misstep that sent a bird fleeing loudly into the night when none of them even merited a confused cocking of a head. The smell of the burning campfire was in the air and, like sharks scenting a drop of blood, they followed it with their weapons drawn, itching for a kill. They came upon her as she tried to warm herself, too stupid to realize the folly of her decision. Cato was the first to show himself by emerging from the thick foliage like a vengeful reaper. He grinned; lush lips that should have been for flipping the hearts of young women were instead curved cruelly. A quick slash of his weapon was followed by a cry from her, but she was not done. Instead she was only incapacitated, writhing on the ground and grabbing at dirt as if to squeeze the pain from her body. Cato watched as tears fell from her eyes and listened to the pained cries tearing from her lips. He didn't end her pain; instead he turned and walked away from the sight.

"Your turn, Loverboy. Prove you're worth keeping around." He shot a warning glance at Peeta, pointedly saying with his eyes that Katniss's life was in his hands. Cato knew why Peeta joined them; he was smart enough to know when someone's actions were ruled by heart rather than head. He didn't care though, and he wouldn't pose the issue with the other Careers. After all, he doubted the Citizens wanted to see the Girl on Fire extinguished just yet, she was the belle of their ball and the citizens were fickle enough to shun him for their fairy tale.

Cato listened to the rustling as Peeta went to follow his orders. Another scream echoed around them, multiple thuds following as the cry dwindled into the night. He continued to listen.

Silence.

He turned his head to watch Peeta emerge from the trees, the other man's face was pale and barely composed. For a brief moment the two met eyes, Peeta to show defiance and Cato to mock. He knew he held the power in their current situation and he reveled in it even though the tiny voice inside, the last remnants of his conscience, wept at the small piece of goodness he had just ripped from Peeta's soul. Peeta finally turned away. A moment passed before Cato spoke to break the silent power struggle in which they engaged.

"Think she's around here?" He asked, staring at the back of Peeta's head until his instincts kicked in and he turned to face Cato once again.

"I saw a trap of hers before; she can't be too far away."

That's when Cato heard it: the subtle, soft inhalation of betrayal, so quiet that he knew the others hadn't heard it above their excitedly pounding hearts. He didn't look up despite every instinct trying to work him like a marionette to see her poised above them. It was enough to know she was up there, watching them. Watching him. Seeing Peeta turned against her even though her faithful servant was doing everything he could to ensure her survival, even killing.

"Let's keep going, we'll settle when we find a decent clearing."

* * *

The sun rising filtered through his eyelids, forcing him to squint before rolling over. Dirt immediately filled his nose and he groaned, slowly opening his eyes and realizing where he was once again. Every morning he imagined he would be somewhere different, like the Games was a dream he could leave at any time, every morning was a cold glass of water being thrown in his face. With a stretch he stood, surveying where they had ended up stopping for the night. It was a small clearing, but easily protected as there was a wall of rock to one side that stretched too far up for anyone to attack, leaving them able to sleep in a semi-circle to ensure there was someone to detect an intruder from any side. The rest of the group continued to sleep, some having briefly stirred to inspect the movement before resuming their rest. Cato let them. They had kept moving for much longer than anticipated and he doubted Katniss would even be able to track them from where they had left her. With the shortage of water, the long trek had taken its toll on all of them. At that point their main source of fluids came from the precious fruit they had found in the supplies. Fruit that was dwindling fast and rotting even faster.

Cato squinted into the sun, suddenly wishing he had paid more attention at the survival area of their training. Somehow he had let that crucial lesson slip past his thoughts and now they were all paying the price. They were going to have to find water and fast, lest fighting off the other tributes end up meaningless when they shriveled from the inside out. He went to see if there was something, any body of water, they might have missed. A few steps later had him stopping dead, a knife planted firmly in the tree trunk next to his head. He growled low in his throat, turning to glare at the culprit.

"Clove…" He said simply, the word uttered in a tone that required no further warning.

"What? I realized it was you in time to miss." She stated in defense, lifting her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug to signify she had done her part in not killing him. Cato knew it was true, if she had wanted him dead, had put even the tiniest effort into hitting him, he'd be staring sightless at the sky right at that very moment. It wouldn't do to suggest she could get away with that type of shit, though.

"Keep it tucked back next time, one cut on any part of my body will be mirrored tenfold on yours. Remember that unless you want to volunteer to give me an anatomy lesson, starting from the inside." He stared after the threat had left his lips, waiting to see her reaction. She stared back, her insides churning momentarily though she had spent enough time around Cato to school her expression into one of bored indifference. With his point made, Cato left to seek out water, listening in the trees to hear the falling of a waterfall, the bubbling of a creek or even just the sounds of animals gathering. Nothing came to him and he came across nothing in return. He licked his lips, feeling the sting of cracking flesh. A disappointed sigh followed the action and he moved to go back to their pseudo camp, seeing the others were rising and already prepared for action. None of them were at 100% anymore, but they did not need that to be lethal.

Suddenly loud booms echoed from a distance, followed by crashing sounds and the unmistakable scent of burning foliage. His eyebrow lifted involuntarily as he sniffed the air, confused and (he had to admit) a little concerned.

"The hell is going on over there?" Marvel said, voicing the thought patterns of everyone in the group.

"Is it coming toward us?" Glimmer asked, looking at the other members of the group as she grew worried. "Should we run?" Other tributes were one thing, they were confident in their abilities to take on anyone in the arena. But fire and the game-maker was a completely different matter. They would ruthlessly hunt you down with anything at their disposal and barely bat a lash when you succumbed to the inevitable end. He forced himself not to panic and instead to focus on what was happening in the distance. The smell, though growing stronger, didn't seem to be rushing at them. Instead the constant thunderous sounds cracking in the forest seemed to be consistently happening in a far off area. If the game-maker was using going to use this against them, they would already be in the middle of it. Someone else was being chased off or eliminated, not them. He waited for the cannon to go off, staring into the sky and the swirling clouds of thick smoke. Nothing came.

"They're doing something over there. Whatever it is, it's not aimed at us though. But we should take them up on their offer, wouldn't you say?" Some turned to eye him, confused. Clove grinned broadly, understanding the thought patterns of his mind better than anyone else in their party. "Clearly someone is being moved around from wherever they were hiding. We should meet them and give a warm welcome to the arena." He followed this statement by pulling out his sword, making the most obvious point he could with the relaxed way he gently swayed the weapon in his hand, staring down each and every one of them. The careers visibly relaxed and grinned along with him. Peeta's face became a conflicted mess before he managed to compose himself. But vastly outnumbered, he knew not to argue.

The group packed up the few things they had carried away from camp and Cato led the way, following the sounds until they became almost all encompassing, a catastrophic symphony of crashing trees, burning wood and the occasional shriek of an animal. Suddenly it was over. The smell remained in the air, but there was no crashing and even the burning sounds were gone. Had they really been able to extinguish the disaster so quickly? Again he waited for the sound of the boom to signal another tribute's life had ended. Yet again, nothing happened. And so they continued walking, ending their journey when the sight of a pool of water came into their vision. It was enough to end their grouped trek and everyone moved to the side of the pool to gather water. Cato stopped dead in his tracks, Peeta following suit. Katniss was shifting on the ground on the opposite side of the pool, having heard and spotted them as they discovered the vital fluid. Cato's sword lifted higher into the air, Katniss turned and ran into a thicker part of the woods, noticeably limping from an injury. The rest of the Careers lifted up in unison, a wild pack scenting injured prey. The chase was on.

They ran to where she disappeared, following the sounds of moving and scraping in the woods. It didn't take long, mere seconds, before she was in sight again and their legs pumped faster to lessen the distance between them. It was then she began scrambling up a tree, moving quickly despite the now noticeable burns to one leg. She was more than halfway up by the time they caught up to her and Cato eyeballed the trunk for a good way to follow. His instincts were kicked in and taking over. There was pain in his chest from thinking of what he would have to do, but this was The Hunger Games, there was only one who would be free from this once it was over. It was better to end it now than wait until the end and see her hopeful face lose all emotion in death. With that thought echoing inside him, he grabbed on to the tree and began to follow her up, determined to end his own suffering, or make it worse.

He had made it only a third of the way up the tree, the echoes of his team mates encouragement all around him, when a crack resounded and was followed by the rush of wind as he fell. Cato grunted as his back hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from his body. He lay momentarily dazed, staring up at Katniss's leg before it disappeared into the top of the tree. The Careers jeering became worse, disappointed in him and still calling for blood. Glimmer attempted next, but she really was useless with the bow and they watched as the arrow stuck uselessly into the tree. Peeta piped in; reminding them she couldn't stay up there forever. There was general agreement, if not hurt egos, and they settled down for the remainder of the day and night. He left to go fill a few canteens with water in the pool where they had come upon her. Upon his return, he remained hidden in the forest long enough to eye her figure up in the tree, unable to make out any details except for her outline and the pained way her hand seemed to press upon a leg. He wondered how badly she was hurt, if she even had a chance anymore. He ignored the tightening in his chest and went back to his group, ready to sleep through another nightmare that seemed to plague him.

* * *

The sound woke him first and he had enough time to lift his body up before the nest fell and exploded, releasing a swarm into the air that immediately laid siege on their party. He called out for them to run, quickly and anymore. He took off into the forest, but felt at least two stings into his body before he made it far enough away that they no longer followed. Screams of at least two females in their party continued to pierce his ears even so, and he wondered if his District mate would live another day before he found a safe spot to collapse. His head swam; pain throbbed in his arm and neck. Briefly he saw Clove take off a little farther past him before falling. So she had made it. He smiled knowing she was safe, and then his eyes closed.

_When they opened again he was lying in a bed, the mattress plush and soft, the room a gentle blue that soothed him. Movement next to him grabbed his attention and he saw Katniss, smiling brightly with tousled hair and bedroom eyes. She wore nothing and a quick glance at himself proved he was the same. Suddenly her fingers were stroking through his hair, massaging the back of his neck before pulling him down. Their lips met, hungry mouths devouring the taste of one another, blending breath and essence. Cato moved atop her, desiring the feel of her soft flesh rubbing against his own, her breasts stroking over the hardened muscles of his chest and her thighs gliding over his hips before her legs hooked behind his back. His fingers stroked over her cheek, brushing over her jaw and slipping down her neck. Without sight he found a nipple, teasing the peak until a gentle moan vibrated into his mouth. He grinned slightly before pressing his lips more fully into hers, not wanting to feel any distance in their bodies. The fingers of his other hand dived into the flowing locks of her hair, brushing through the softness and gently gripping to hold her to him. He relished this closeness with her, the heat building between them and the comfort he felt knowing they were here; together._

"Cato…" He stopped. The voice saying his name did not match the woman lying beneath him.

"Cato, damnit, you idiot. Get the hell up!"

"Christ, Clove…" He growled, his eyes opening. A groan followed as he lifted his upper body from the ground, ignoring the popping of his joints that signified just how long he had been laying there. He ignored the discomfort of moving, the pounding in his head and the irritation at Clove for destroying the first good dream he had had in what felt like ages. He also was angry at the desire he still felt coursing through his body and the peace he had felt when he saw her face in bed with him.

"How long was I out?" He asked, finally looking to Clove who glared at him from a few feet away.

"A day. I was only stung once, so I was only disoriented for a few hours." The last statement was made proudly, as if victorious already for having been incapacitated for less time than him. "We got a parachute with something in it to counteract the venom. Your stupid ass just refused to wake up. What the hell were you dreaming about, anyway? You were grinning like an idiot."

"I can't remember much. Only something about slicing you from neck to foot; sounds about right." He muttered, thrusting his head to one side and listening to the satisfying pop before he stood to stretch every kink from his limbs.

"Glimmer is dead. So is Four." Clove stated simply.

Cato nodded. He felt a little pang at hearing this, but was glad, at least, that he wouldn't have to take care of them later when the Games had dwindled to just them.

"We should head back to the supplies. The others are going to start getting desperate soon and we should be there when they do." Clove nodded, looking to Marvel who was seated on the stump of a fallen tree not too far off. Marvel didn't argue, which was enough of an agreement for them. They set off to return to their horde, ready to face down the other tributes who would soon grow hungry enough even to take them on.

Cato continued to dream in his head of the girl who had set him on fire.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Even though people follow orders_

_Doesn't mean it comes from the heart._

_Surrounded by a million borders_

'_Til it's time for us to part._

_The moon can make the calmest seas_

_Threaten every man on board._

_Find ourselves upon our knees_

_Have nothing but a shield and a sword_."

Marcus Foster – Solid Ground

* * *

They had only been traveling for a short while when the faintest of rustles stopped all of them in their tracks. Each turned in a different direction, seeking the origin of the sound and what it might mean. As each took off slowly in a chosen path, Cato caught sight of a small tuft of blond peeking from above a mossy log. He prowled forward, not even attempting to feign he wasn't coming straight toward his prey. Upon reaching the log, Cato looked down into the nervous eyes of Peeta.

"Why hell there, Lover boy. We missed you today! Any reason you ran?" He greeted as though coming upon an old friend. Real fear was in Peeta's eyes, but the man had enough strength in him to school the rest of his features into pure blankness.

"Was it us? Not really clicking well?" Cato's eyes locked on to Peeta's as he slid the sword from his belt, the tip aimed at the other man and ready to move if the other bolted. Without any signal from him, Clove and Marvel moved into place to create a semi-circle around Peeta, each wielding their own weapon and prepared to strike. "Maybe you thought we were too stupid to know you would be using us to save your precious Girl on Fire."

"Well, part of that last sentence was right. It wasn't the second half." Peeta replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Stupid, hmm?" Cato responded, no change in his expression to reflect the flash of anger he felt at any implication his intellect was lacking. "Tell me something, Peeta… How smart does one have to be in order to survive with a three second head start?"

Peeta remained immobile, confusion shrinking his fingers into a scowl. After a moment Cato took the slightest step to go around the log.

"Smarter than one would think, it seems."

Realization hit Peeta's face a mere second before Cato lunged. Peeta dodge and took off, shoving Marvel aside to clear a path. The startled Career fell over, a victim of his own cocky delusions of being a formidable fortress. Clove and Cato gave chase, keeping a close eye on Peeta's movements in case he tried to trick them into a mis-step. Peeta, though fast, was not up to Cato's fitness level and was soon too close to the devil. Cato lunged, knocking square into the other's back and forcing him face first into the forest floor.

Peeta surprised him with his strength as he knocked Cato off of him swiftly, pushing himself from the ground to take off once again. Clove's knife went flying past Cato's head, missing Peeta as the fleeing tribute intelligently began a zigzagging pattern to avoid her attacks. Several misses later and Clove was running out of steam, her shorter legs no match for the two men despite her training. Slowly she began to fall further back, anger at herself and Peeta turning her face ugly. Cato left her behind, forcing his legs to move faster until he was close enough to lift the hairs on Peeta's neck. Another lunge and the two men were rolling, struggling for supremacy and domination. Suddenly a cry echoed in the woods and Cato felt warm blood seeping against his hand, the sword he held finally making contact and cutting into the giving flesh of Peeta's leg. The other man rolled once on the ground, struggling to straighten himself up.

Cato went to give another blow to weaken Peeta further, when suddenly his leg was swept out from under him. Landing with a hard thud, he felt the air rush from his lungs and he gasp, trying to force air to flow back into his chest. It was then a heavy thud knocked all thoughts from his head and he barely had time to see the large stick Peeta held in his hand before he let his head fall back down on the ground, out of breath and fighting the dizzy spell threatening to steal his awareness.

"Cato! Get up, what are you doing?"

"Clove… just this once… shut up. Just shut the hell up." Cato ground his teeth, no longer able to hear the shuffling of Peeta's wounded leg scraping the ground as he ran away. Cato slowly looked to Clove, teeth gritted against the pain shooting through his head. "The wound was deep enough that he won't make it unless he gets something delivered to him. He's as good as dead, just too stupid to lie down and take it already. Now piss off until my head stops threatening mutiny against me."

"We should have still finished him off when we had the chance. What if that bitch catches up to him?"

Cato shot her a look as deadly as the wound that had opened in Peeta's flesh, effectively ending Clove's argument. She sighed, moving to sit down. "What happened to you, Cato? Every time she's mentioned it's like you forget why you're here and what we're here to do. Are you trying to embarrass our district?"

Cato looked at her steadily, trying to explain the complicated thoughts he had been having since the moment he arrived in the capital. He knew she would never understand though, she was the prime woman they all loved from his district; she was everything they conditioned them to be and more. She would be the one to make them all proud, he was supposed to be, but knew he was quickly spiraling into failure.

"Don't you worry, Clove. I am going to make myself proud." He slowly grinned at her, hoping that would be enough to appease her for now, though what he meant was not what she would understand.

* * *

They made it back to the supplies and the twitchy kid from District 3. He practically rushed at Cato and almost got a belly full of metal before he had time to explain what he had done to secure everything. Cato nodded, eyeing the carefully marked spots barely visible in the dirt that would act as their steps. He also mentioned several traps he had set up around the perimeter in the woods, ones that would catch the victim much like an animal would be trapped.

"Good, Three. But if it blows one of us up, you'll be next on the list." He nodded to Three then walked away, ignoring the urge to ask the kid his name. He thought of Four dying with Glimmer and wondered what her name had been and if she had had any real hopes of surviving this. He also wondered what type of person would ally himself with two people and not even know the simplest piece of information about them. A monster would, especially when their usefulness would wear out and result in their inevitable end.

They slept well that night, bellies full of food and water satiating the thirst that never seemed to end. The next day was one of luxury, lounging and chatter.

"When I get home I am going build the largest house on our street and pay people to do everything in it!" Exclaimed Marvel, leaning back to rest against the trunk where he was sitting. "I'll build my own hunting field where I can catch every critter they'll let me bring in." He smiled at himself, eyes closing as he imagined himself stalking through the trees, tracking the movements of a large creature destined to be stuffed and glorified in a special room just for him.

"That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard, Marvel." Clove rolled her eyes at him. Men, she thought, nothing could save them except women. "When I get back I am going to apply to work at the Academy. I'll spend my days yelling at the new recruits and turning them into warriors we can be proud of, ones who rule with their minds and not stupid emotions." Her eyes slyly slid to Cato, who ignored her blatant implications.

"When I get back…" Cato paused, frowning. What would he do when he gets back? He had never thought that far, he hadn't had the time. And now that he was pressed with the issue, nothing would come to him. "I will figure that out when the time comes. For now, I'm only focused on making 'when the time comes' happen." He stared into the dying fire as the sun set down upon them.

Another night of full rest and minds filled with hope. Each feeling they had the best chance of getting out of there, except for Three, but none knowing who would be the one to go home. Nothing stirred that night in the forests or around them, it was all just a camping trip, as though they were finally just a group of friends getting to throw responsibility into the wind and leave town to party and make mistakes.

The following morning they got up, preparing themselves for the possibility of going into the woods to eliminate the rest of the tributes. Suddenly Marvel stood up, pointing up into the sky.

"Check it out, guys, someone is sending us a smoke signal! It says 'dead tribute here'." He laughed at his own joke, only realizing after a few belly shaking moments that none of the others were joining him, not even Clove found him entertaining.

"Let's go check it out." Cato said after a moment of silence. "Time to get back to what are supposed to be doing here." And with that they ran into the woods, stopping when a break in the trees allowed them to get a better look at the smoke spiraling into the sky. Only a few minutes into their hunt and an explosion so loud and powerful resounded that it shook the very ground beneath them. A quick glance at one another was all it took before the three ran back to the supplies, finding instead a blazing inferno of everything they had carefully absconded with from the cornucopia. Three stood in a daze, looking utterly confused and, to the three of them, utterly useless.

Cato found himself yelling before Three even had time to get his wits back about him. He demanded answers, and then with a quick snap of his arms, he demanded Three's life. The boy's body fell to the ground heavily at Cato's feet. The rage he had briefly felt faltered as he saw the stunned and sad expression on the kid's face, his final moments a crazed end to a life that had never truly lived.

The rest of the day was spent scavenging what they could for survival. Cato stopped often, looking into the woods, struggling to understand why he felt like they weren't alone. A silly though considering how closely they were all watched, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that the three of them weren't all that was left. By that night they waited patiently for the answer to who had done this, but except for Three, no one else was listed.

"Whoever did this is still alive." Clove growled, looking at the others. "Who did this?" The two men shrugged.

"Whoever did, we'll be taking revenge on soon enough, I guarantee it." Marvel nodded more to himself than the others, he relished killing and the other tributes might as well have been animals for all the pause they got from him. The following day they woke up to find Marvel gone, already off in the woods to find his next victim. Cato and Clove remained in the clearing formulating a plan to catch some of their craftier enemies.

It wasn't until a while later, when the first cannon went off, that they looked up and grinned.

"Marvel must have gotten them!" Clove exclaimed with a little clap. Cato nodded in response, another tribute down. How many were left? He struggled to remember whose faces he had seen in the sky and who must be out there somewhere. Suddenly another cannon went off and the two looked at each other.

"Was there two or…?" Clove almost looked a little sad. He wondered briefly if all of them would have been friends in another life.

"We'll have to wait and see if he comes back or if we will be saying goodbye to his picture tonight. Until then, let's keep planning. It's winding down now, Clove, we're going to be saying goodbye soon." Cato did something he doubted Clove would ever expect and reached over, grabbing her hand for a gentle squeeze. The girl's eyes widened and she struggled at first, but then the comfort of the unfamiliar gesture set in and she squeezed it back. They sat in companionable silence, each wondering how the other would fall.

That night they stared into the night sky, saying their goodbyes in silence and without expression to Marvel, whose smug face glowed in the dark and disappeared. Extinguished by the Capital as easily as his very existence had been. As they sat side by side, no words coming to them. An announcement filled the air around them, snapping them back to the present with the most shocking announcement possible.

"A team can win?" Clove looked to Cato for verification. "We could both get out of here? Why would they do that?"

"Peeta's cannon never fired, I wonder if they're giving the lovers one last shot." Cato frowned, hating Peeta even more in that moment. "This plan of ours better work, Clove. We might as well get this over with so we can sleep in our own beds; this dirt is kicking my ass." The pair grinned, renewed excitement flooding them with hope and possibility. Rest that night was easy despite the adrenaline and they woke up ready to take on the world; or at least the one in which they were trapped. The next day they walked around the forest, plotting and preparing the final bits. Another announcement in the air stopped them.

"What do we need, do you think?" Cato grinned, looking at Clove.

"A gathering of all of our favorite people." Clove responded, her smile wider than it had been all day. "A nice little group of friends just waiting for us to surprise them with a gift." Clove laughed, the sound almost startling Cato. They didn't often laugh, smile absolutely, but laughter from her was almost foreign to him. He wondered if she would laugh more if they made it out, if she would finally become the type of woman who could relax instead of constantly looking like she was on the prowl. They woke up early and Cato disappeared into the woods in the little spot they had hidden off with branches and leaves to keep him from sight while the others ran to grab their supplies. Clove hid in another side, her knives at the ready for destruction.

They were slightly startled when the redhead ran from the Cornucopia, grabbing a pack and disappearing before they could even process she had been there. Clever girl, Cato though, feeling a spark of admiration for the other tribute. Then he felt her… Katniss. His eyes locked on her as she snuck through the woods by him. He was so close but he dared not breath or move, instead his every thought was on her and each movement she made.

He took in the richness of her hair tied so haphazardly in that braid. The brightness of her eyes against her tanned flesh. The capable hands that held the bow tightly but in a way he knew she would barely need a second to fire. A strong one, he thought, his eyes flowing over her hand. He saw work there, laziness wasn't present in any part of her. Another reason to admire her, another reason to let her live, suddenly he wanted her to survive so she could understand what luxury was for the rest of her existence. Life was hard for them in 1 and 2, despite the rose glasses people tended to wear about their districts. They weren't children; they were soldiers even from the youngest age. And love, happiness? That wasn't something that happened until you were older and no longer useful to bring the world's eyes favorably to the district. But despite all that, they didn't have to fight until they were bloody just for the basics. They were a little spoiled, but they paid for each piece of the pie they got by giving up another bit of themselves. He shook the doldrums away, seeing that Katniss was approaching the cornucopia.

He watched as Clove lunged and the two women began to fight. Nervousness plagued his stomach as he watched, but he never left his perch. With the real possibility of Katniss's death right in front of him, he suddenly couldn't find himself able to move anymore. He wanted no part of it, he would not be the one to kill her and he couldn't even bear the thought of watching. How had one single girl torn down every bit of training he had until he couldn't even perform the way 18 years of conditioning had instilled in him?

His eyes squeezed shut, listening to the raised voices in the field. A scream resounded and it took a second for Cato to realize it wasn't Katniss's. His name echoed again as Clove screamed it, begging for his help. His eyes shot open, bearing pained witness as the rock went slamming down into Clove's head before she was dropped to the ground like a doll. Thresh spoke to Katniss briefly before running off. Cato's eyes were locked on Clove's barely breathing form and guilt stabbed him hard in the gut.

"Clove!" He called out, scrambling from the hiding spot they had made together only hours ago. "Clove!"

Katniss took off, but he refused to give her any more attention in that moment. Instead he dropped down next to Clove, sickened by the dent in her skull and the blood pooling in her face.

"Clove, I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry. Stay with me, Clove. Don't leave! We are going to get out of here, remember?" Pain sliced his insides, powerful and hot. Tears formed in his eyes and he cradled Clove gently, feeling the breath flowing more and more slowly. No accusation was on her face, though he doubted she was even cognitive at that point. He felt moisture on his face and knew several tears had escaped to flow down his cheeks. He didn't care if the world saw it. At this point he doubted he could feel worse. Daydreaming had killed his partner, the girl who only two days before had told him the plan she had for her life. Who hours ago had been celebrating with him and joyously laughing. Never again would she laugh in front of him or any other. She would never yell at her students or watch proudly as they fought in the Games.

"Clove, I'm so sorry…" He repeated, squeezing her now completely lifeless body to him. "I failed you." He whispered into her body, gently setting her down. With renewed anger, Cato looked up as Thresh disappeared into the trees. There was only one way his District responded when someone had been so powerfully wronged. Cato stood, any trace of the daydreaming fool now gone.


	6. Chapter 6

He slid the sword back into the belt around his waist, letting his training take control in order to steel himself against the powerful emotions pouring through every vein. Liquid hot rage slid into every appendage, burning his flesh and making him lethal. The face that had so shortly ago been lit up from within with hope and camaraderie with his fellow tribute was now cold, dark, and dead though still breathing. Eyes that had once sparkled with a snarky wit now remained dull and focused. Slowly he lowered himself to his knees next to Clove, forcing himself to look into her face one last time, to see what his distraction had caused. His fingers brushed over her eyes, closing them in respect and bowing his head to her. As an afterthought he slid his fingers into her jacket and took the knives she had hidden, wanting to have her weapons deal the death blow to the one who had snuffed the life from her limbs.

With one quick, fulfilling breath of air, Cato took off. He headed toward the line of trees through which Thresh had originally disappeared. Once there he paused, studying each disturbed twig, leaf, and indentation in the ground. Every piece of destroyed plant life gave him a unique clue for Thresh's direction and where Cato could find ultimate satisfaction.

With only minutes giving him a head start and the lack of knowledge that he was being stalked, Thresh had not made it far enough to escape Cato's determined hunting. With slowed movements Cato began to stalk rather than follow, watching Thresh through the trees. One could almost imagine him licking his lips in anticipation like a tiger lurking in the shadowy depths of the rainforest, preparing for that moment when teeth would sink into hot flesh and hunger would be appeased.

He ran when Thresh ran, paused when he paused, and took cautious steps in time with the other. It was like a dance between the two, choreographed to perfection. All the while his large frame slipped over the ground undetected; only ceasing his movements when the other man's suspicions made him pause. Cato calculated, eyeing Thresh's movements and seeing what he always did, massive strength. At the same time there was fluidity to his movements as well, lending him less likely to be taken down by his own clumsiness. He began to formulate a plan even as his fingers stroked along the cool blade of Clove's knife, aching inside from his part in her loss and venomous at the Capital for waving death to her in the first place. The Capital, he practically spit on the ground in frustration, was a bunch of childish brats whose sole source of amusement came from taking everything from everyone and then laughing as they suffered from it. Away from his district, he no longer felt the protection the elders in the community gave to the Capital and their ways. Away from all of it and surrounded by nothing but death, anger, and disappointment, Cato's eyes were being forced open and every belief he had ever had was torn ruthlessly from his gut.

It would not be enough to save Thresh, not for what he had done to his only true companion here. The Capital wanted a monster and, for now, he was prepared to give them something even they would fear at night. He felt the moment building with tension and anticipation, could almost feel the Capital citizens leaned toward their screens with bated breath, awaiting the moment when the demon would be released to wreak fiery vengeance upon all who dared to cross the devil.

It was time. Cato lunged from the safety of the trees, rushing at Thresh without a single falter to his movements. Thresh heard the noise and ducked in time to feel the rush and air current of Cato's sword passing through where his neck had been. Thresh turned, barreling into Cato with as much force as the small distance between them would allow. The two men fell hard to the ground, each using their strength simply to keep the other from gaining control; barely enough was left to attempt an actual offensive attack. Cato locked fingers with Thresh, pushing his hand forward until he felt the give in Thresh's hand as several fingers dislocated. Emitting an animalistic grunt of pain, Thresh gave slightly on that side until Cato was able to shove his body up and knock the other man from himself.

They both quickly moved to stand up, keeping their eyes focused fixedly on the other as they circled, unwilling to present their backs or vulnerable spots to a potential attack. The fingers on Thresh's left hand curled awkwardly from his new injury, Cato no longer had his sword; both men were out of breath and exhausted. Cato faked an attack to the right, causing Thresh to move into a defensive stance to catch the hit. Instead Cato barreled into Thresh's left hand, knocking the other man down before bringing his foot down hard on to the already damaged hand. Loud pops and cracks filled the air is strong bone gave way under the heavy pressure and fractured. Cato only had a moment to feel satisfaction before his leg was grabbed and he was pulled to the ground. Thresh pinned him with his weight and used his remaining hand to attack. Cato felt the blows land on his face and gut, blossoming into white hot pain that radiated outward until the air was sucked from his lungs. Thunder rumbled and rain began to fall, pummeling the pair as they continued to fight for dominancy and survival.

As his vision became dotted over and his strength waned further, Cato wondered if it was his destiny to fall to the strength of Thresh as Clove had, it would be what he deserved. And yet despite the self-pity attempting to con him into succumbing, Cato gathered the tattered shreds of the rage he felt at Clove's death and used it to invigorate him for one last shove. Thresh went falling backwards, hitting the ground hard and giving Cato enough time to grab the sword that was resting in wait for his use.

Cato moved to Thresh's side and with a warrior's cry that rumbled from deep within his chest and shook the sky along with the lightning that flashed through the darkened clouds above, he brought the sword down. The sharp tip easily punctured Thresh's throat, flowing in and through flesh like a hot knife through butter. Blood bubbled as airways were severed, veins and arteries destroyed, until the sword was planted into the ground. Thresh tried feebly to grab the sword, only managing to grip the blade until his hand was lacerated and useless. Cato kneeled, ignoring as Thresh's bloodied hand reached and grabbed his arm, spreading crimson liquid over his clothes. Cato leaned down, his own hand going to Thresh's throat as he stared deep into the other man's eyes.

"For Clove." He said with strength in his voice and eyes void of any emotion except triumph and rage. Thresh's own eyes soon became vacant and the man's hand fell to the ground, body falling still as the last breath left him. A canon boomed and rolled through the sky. The rain stopped.

Cato stood, looking at the lifeless body lying on the ground and waiting for the turmoil inside of him to cease. It didn't. He had prayed that the revenge he had taken would lift the guilt and agony from his body; instead the purpose that had kept him strong was now dissipating and leaving him. His eyes fell upon the two packs that Thresh had taken from the cornucopia after he had murdered Clove. He reached for the one labeled "2", opening it to find armor for two nestled safely inside. His eyes closed, feeling pain anew as the more petit sized armor fell to the ground, armor that would have fit perfectly on Clove and protected her from the blows and arrows of the remaining tributes. Beneath that was a much larger set for him and he mechanically removed the pieces from the bag, pulling them on to his body, feeling vaguely surprised at how lightweight it really was.

His body ached, his soul crumbled, and the nightmare was far from over. So lost within himself, Cato almost missed the unmistakable approaching of a hovercraft. He ducked back just as it appeared above him, opening and lowering a ladder until two peacekeepers came swiftly downward. They prepared Thresh's body for retrieval and were lifting up with it when Cato caught the eye of one of the peacekeepers. He kept the surprise from showing on his face, not wanting to alert anyone that the person floating away from the scene with his latest victim was someone he knew very well.

Cato turned, mindlessly journeying until he found a puddle of water deep enough with which to wash the blood from his body. By the time he was done the pool was thicker and ominously glowing red as sunlight drove into the liquid and cast a tinged light around it like the glittering beauty of a ruby.

"Katniss, Peeta, one other." He whispered to himself, unable to put a face to the tribute he knew was left, but could not recall. Three other tributes, three left before the Games would be over for another year and the Capital would be left salivating for the deaths of 23 more children and the zombie of the remaining tribute who would never again feel for life as they had when childhood promised more for them.

He went to stand just as a canon shot off in the sky once again. Confusion twisted his features, his head tilted back and he tried to make out who was being carried off, but could only make the hovercraft out in the distance. Who had died? Katniss? Was she still alive? Had Peeta finally succumbed to his wound? Cato would only hope, the jealous male in him was tired of Peeta's existence and wanted him out of the competition ring, even if the way of doing so was slightly unconventional. He doubted, though, that he would survive in a battle between he and Katniss, seeing her body the way Thresh had been would haunt his thoughts for eternity, something he didn't even want to bother fighting.

With night beginning to fall, Cato made his way back to the Cornucopia, eyeing the spot where Clove's body had left the slightest dent in the Earth, where her blood still stained. There he set a single flower in remembrance, bowing his head to her and apologizing once again for being the reason she had suffered alone. He then went inside the Cornucopia to prepare for the night. But as he moved around inside, he suddenly realized how private the space actually was. Having been used for weapons, storage, and as a place for the workers to build rigs for their "surprises" through the Games, there were no cameras within the actual creation itself. Not believing the observation at first, Cato studied each crevice and space within the container, hearing no mechanical whirs of adjusting cameras or the subtle static of microphones.

Suddenly Cato smiled as his eyes finishing roaming the walls, a plan building within his mind. He looked down at his wrist where the tiniest little cut in his arm represented where the tracker had been inserted before they had been shuttled off to the arena. With his mind full of potential outcomes, Cato settled down for the night, his body stiff and sore, his head still pounding from the beating he had taken. Yet still he began to feel something he had lost when Clove's first cry shattered through the blazing morning: hope.

* * *

The following day he thought through his plan as carefully as possible, calculating the risks and knowing that there was a high probability of failure. But not to try was to give up, and District 2 kids would have been beaten into oblivion for giving up, and then forced to try harder for it. He could practically taste the impatience of the Capital's crew for everything to be over and wondered with a twinge of concern what they were cooking up for the remaining three tributes. Whatever it was, past Games reminded him it would not only be deadly, but chock full of the highest entertainment. He redressed in the armor that had been in their pack and went out to get some light food, fearing a full stomach would only yield sluggishness.

As the day wore on he could feel it in the air, the finale was coming soon, so very soon. All he could do now was hope he was able to speak to them before everything came to fruition.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a strange sound in the near distance. It was of nimble feet and quiet huffing, definitely an animal, but something struck him as far too predatory to be a curious forager. It was also not alone.

The first one broke through the trees and he thought of an oversized wolf immediately. His hand reached for a sword, prepared to tackle their climactic finale and laugh at them for it. Before he had a chance to strike, the wolf's head lifted, eyes staring straight at his. The hand holding the sword slackened then lost its gripe entirely, he barely registered when the thud of the falling sword resounded. Clove's eyes stared at him, piercing him, haunting him. Their angry resentment filled him with coldness and he could barely take a breath.

"Clove… Clove…" he whispered repeatedly, but nothing broke through the accusations spilling from the beasts eyes and piercing through him. Then a growl of fury echoed and Cato finally felt real, honest fear envelop him. Several more emerged from the rapidly darkening woods, ghostly creatures coming to wreak revenge on the tributes that had slain them. Cato barely acknowledged the others, though he recognized Glimmer, Marvel, and so many others eyes fixing on him. It was Clove's that held the most meaning, and even as Cato wondered if he was going to be able to survive this one, he wanted to scream his anger at the gamemaker for being so cruel and heartless. He also felt sickened by the question of whether the fallen tributes were in there at all or if the trick only went so far as to capture their attention long enough for the beasts to tear into them.

As if in answer, the creatures howled, heads reared back as they let loose their fury to skies. Then they moved to attack.

Cato ran, his heart pounding with panicked fear, his lungs seizing and failing often to capture a breath that could keep him strong and going. His blood pounded furiously, doing battle with the icy fear he felt as the beings came closer and closer to him. The cornucopia was so close, so very close.

He made it through the trees, his feet moving more nimbly now that he was in the clearing. As he prepared to lunge up on to safety, he heard the human feet behind him and the panting sounds of Katniss on his heels.

'Run, Katniss, don't look back, just run…' he thought fearfully, gripping the smooth cornucopia and tugging himself to safety with some of the last strength he had in his reserves. Then he turned, sucking in a breath and holding it as Katniss struggled up on to the structure. Once she had made it, he finally expelled the air he had been holding. A bow became trained on him, he didn't move, just waited for the arrow to pierce flesh. Peeta distracted her and she moved to pull him up as well. As soon as he was up, Cato was on him, grabbing and throwing his slighter body as hard as he could, incapacitating him for as long as he could. Then he grabbed Katniss, ignoring the electric thrill that ran through his hands as they laid upon her body for the first time.

He tossed her down, far more gently than he had Peeta, but still he had to make it convincing. He crouched himself down over her, pressing down on her legs and wrapping his hands around her throat, but not squeezing.

"You are not going to believe me, you are not going to trust me," Cato whispered at her, making sure to keep his face low enough to avoid cameras. "I need you to trust me now, Katniss. I am not here to kill you." Her eyes widened, confusion blending seamlessly with fear and suspicion. "Choke a little." He whispered again, when she didn't react his fingers tightened enough to make his point. She gasped, pretending to struggle for air even as she searched his face for answers.

"We're going to end this, you and I. But not yet, not yet. First you have to kill me. I need you to shoot me somewhere that won't incapacitate me, but will be enough to get me out of the picture, do you understand?" Her heard shook, another feeble attempt at choking. Katniss was unfortunately not a convincing actress. Cato sighed a little, casting a quick look to ensure Peeta was still down. The other man was struggling up already; he was running out of time.

"You and Lover boy are going to win this; I need you to win this. I need you to get me out of the picture… for now." His eyes fixed on hers, conveying a silent message that he doubted she understood. If only this hadn't been the first time he tried to reach out to her. The "if only" statements stacked within his head, there were far too many of them. He heard Peeta's heavy feet coming to them and knew any second the battle would begin.

"Trust me Katniss, just trust me. Shoot me."

Then he was grabbed and pulled from Katniss's body and thrown. He landed hard, but rushed to his feet to grab ahold of Peeta. The two men struggled for what felt like minutes stretching upon minutes, despite the mere seconds that were actually passing. Soon Cato gripped Peeta from behind, his hands fixed in the perfect position to end Peeta's life with a quick, clean twist of his arms. Katniss stared at them, indecision and struggle playing perfect on her face. The Capital would be convinced of her concern for Peeta, and though there was plenty of that, most of what was obvious on her was whether to take Cato on his word. Especially since she wasn't even certain what his word really was, or how it related to her at all.

The war of her indecision climaxed in a momentary falter before an arrow was released with perfect precision. Cato cried out as the hot pain overtook his hand, grip loosening on Peeta. Then he was thrown, the sensation of flying ending with a rough hit to the ground and several scratches of rocks through his clothes and into skin. The arrow remained in his hand; he went to grab for it when a growl reached his ears.

He barely had time to turn his head when the first mutation sank its teeth into the tender spot in his shoulder, ripping messily into muscle and tendon.

* * *

**I just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to all of you who have shown support through reviews, subscribing and everything else you've done! I'm not even close to finished with this, never fear!**


	7. Chapter 7

"_Some people break their bones_

_Others break their self esteem._

_Some dogs stray from their homes_

_Some people never wake from their dreams._"

Marcus Foster - "Solid Ground"

* * *

Cato swung his body away, using his weight to tug his shoulder free from the creature's mouth. A cry was forced from his lips as muscle and tendon strained and ripped, releasing warm, slick blood down his arm. He rocked his body toward the creature then lunged away, using the momentum to tear his body free. Relief was short lived as the powerful jaws clamped down on his arm instead, sinking deep its teeth and locking its jaw tightly. Like a shark it began to jerk its head from side to side, and with horror stricken eyes Cato both heard and felt the pop of his arm as the force tugged bone from its socket. His arm was released, but it only fell limply at his side. He begged it to move, pleaded and prayed, but no movement followed his attempts and the appendage hung uselessly at his side.

With widened eyes, Cato began to shuffle backward away from the mutt, feeling true, honest fear envelop his senses. It reared its head back, guttural sounds rippling from its throat and sinister snarls reminding Cato just who the dominant being was at that moment.

'This is it…' Cato thought, steeling himself for the pain, the slow mastication of his body, the eyes watching him suffer until the very end. Instead, as the creature readied itself to leap upon him again, an arrow went slicing into its chest and straight within its heart. A moment later it was falling to the ground, and then another body fell heavily to the earth, and another. Several beasts later Katniss had run out of arrows and the remaining mutts had disappeared like ghosts into the trees, leaving only the rustling sounds of disturbed leaves and bushes to mark their passing. He looked up, staring into the grey eyes shining with as much confusion and relief as he felt. Her interference had saved his life. The normally fierce expression on his face softened until he was gazing up at her, a hint of adoration coloring the gratitude and silent thanks he sent her way. Her head bowed slightly, hiding her eyes from him and thus her reaction to his seeking gaze.

It wasn't until she began to disappear behind several black spots that he realized how faint he felt and how close he was to blacking out. With determination he gathered the remaining strength his body could pool, digging the fingers of his good hand into the ground and forcing his body closer to the cornucopia. Pain shot through him, coating every inch of skin and crawling within his flesh. His tattered, shredded flesh brushed against the wall of the structure and made him shudder in agony, but still he continued. Soon he was within the safety of the cornucopia, eyeing the walls and listening for the mechanical sound of running cameras. He heard nothing except for the worried yet excited voices of Katniss and Peeta above him.

Cato looked down at his good hand, relieved to still see Katniss's arrow was still stuck deep, though the bleeding was not showing signs of slowing. Cato lifted his eyes toward the roof, as though some answer or reprieve from his torment could be found there. Then, with steely determination, he lifted his arm and grabbed the arrow with his teeth, thrusting his face to one side much as the beast had. With a sickening slurp of thickened blood and sliced flesh, the arrow came free and he grabbed it from his mouth. Thankful, at least, that the tracker was in his destroyed arm, Cato began to use the arrow to open his arm. So fixated on surviving, he barely felt as the metal cut and more of his life's fluid spilled out until he triumphantly pulled the tracker from within its muscular confines. He dropped the tracker, but did not destroy it. With no heat or heartbeat sustaining it, the tracker's signal faded and died, sending the signal of his defeat.

Further weakened from the additional blood loss, Cato laid down upon the ground, staring but unseeing as he felt himself losing grip on awareness.

'Please be the one to find me…' he inwardly begged of no one in particular, knowing his fate was set in place already, knowing they were preparing to grab his body.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the previous rule has been revoked…" was the last thing to creep into his awareness before, horror stricken, he gave into the blackness and knew no more.

* * *

**I wanted to keep this one brief so as to have it be its own chapter. But do not worry! I am already working on the next chapter and will have it up by the end of the day, absolutely promise this. :) I can't say this enough, so I will say it again: thank you so much for taking this journey with me and I am completely grateful for all the followers! And I'm also not above begging for a review or two as well. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

"_Some streets come to an end_

_Others wind and know no bounds_

_I'm just trying to pretend I know how to tread on solid ground_."

Marcus Foster - "Solid Ground"

* * *

Consciousness teased him, offering sensation with no sight. In other words, he felt every biting pain as it blanketed his body, but he did not have the luxury of actively writhing the agony away. The best he could manage was a tortured twist to his face and soft moans of discomfort. He heard two female voices, one he recognized, the other sounded like a softer version of her.

"Katniss, he's coming around and I don't have the medicine to keep him under. I need you to hold him down for me."

"Hold him down? Do you see him?"

"I didn't ask for excuses! Just hold him down."

A soft mumble reached his ears before he felt the gentle weight of someone climbing over him and pushing on the sides of his chest. Their scent drifted down to him and he inhaled as deeply as his body would allow, smelling pure woods, not like the kind created for the Games, more clean and untainted.

"I'm going to pop his arm back into place, but I'm not quite as strong as I should be to do this quickly and cleanly. I'm going to need you to keep him as still as you can so he doesn't thrash about and undo everything I'm trying, okay, Katniss?"

"I've got it, just go…"

Her breath was sweet as she spoke above him, her warm body comforting his chilled skin. It wasn't until the other set to work that pure anguish set into him. He felt the rotation of his arm like knives circling and sawing his shoulder. He heard her distress and struggle as tortured moans came from deep within his soul.

"Katniss help calm him down, he's starting to move and I've almost gotten it!"

"Cato," he heard her whisper closer to his ear than before. "Cato, I know it hurts. You need to relax though. Please, Cato," she pleaded. He acquiesced even as every fiber of his being begged for redemption and a savior from the misery his body inflicted on him. Instead he relished her voice whispering to him, the closeness of her pressed gently down upon him, focused on the very essence of what she offered him that so few ever had in his life: comfort.

One last jolt shook his body before he felt his shoulder shove back into place.

"It's done. Now to stitch his shoulder back up, all that movement opened up the bites from before."

He felt rather than saw Katniss's discomfort in the rigidity of her body against his and the sharp intake of breath. Despite the soft stings as the needle repeatedly entered and tugged through his wounds, Cato found himself wanting to offer comfort to her now, to thank her for bringing him back from whatever dark place had been threatening him when he entered the Games. The soullessness of his entire District eating the light from his life. Instead he laid there, as useless as his arm had been before, helplessly unable to even look into her eyes before sleep stole him once again.

* * *

Sunlight poured in, creeping under his eyelids and forcing him to squint his eyes more tightly shut, moving to roll and block out the offending sun. Instead all he got was pain, and lots of it. Softly he moaned, his eyes shooting open as the throbbing continued in both arms. When it had settled into a dull tide rather than a tsunami, he looked around at his surroundings. A derelict ceiling was above him, held together by remnants and pure hope. The room was neat, but contained nothing of value, either emotionally or financially. It contained a bed, table and chair, and another sleeping form. Cato froze in surprise, noting the dark hair and slight figure, the softness of her breaths and the heat coming from her body.

Cato shifted on the bed, sliding himself enough to see her face and remember that dreamlike moment when she had cared for him in his hour of need. She lay with one arm under her head, propping it into a makeshift pillow as the other clenched the sheet beneath her in fear. His bandaged hand moved of its own volition, fingers hovering over the softness of her cheek, feeling the warmth but not daring to risk a true caress. His eyes slid over the fullness of her lips, the curve of her jaw, and the soft tendrils of hair falling stubbornly around her face. That was when her lashes fluttered and he took his hand back, settling back down as she finally opened her eyes to look at him. Startled, she sat upright immediately, gazing at him with suspicion overwhelming anything else she might be feeling.

"Girl on Fire…" He spoke softly, unwilling to say her name out loud as if she might disappear if he acknowledged it. It was apparently the wrong thing to say as her eyes narrowed and she shifted even farther away from the bed.

"I have a name, Cato," she said, letting her frustration overtake trepidation over being alone in the same room as the now awake Cato.

"Yes, you do," he acknowledged without saying it. She sighed, moving to stand from the chair. "Where am I?" He inquired quickly, unwilling to let her leave him so soon.

"My home. My… old home." She frowned slightly as though saying it was almost painful. "We live in the Victor's Village now, Peeta and I."

"Lover boy made it out too?" Another frown, slightly more disgust conveyed to him.

"Yes, Peeta and I made it out together."

"How? The last thing I heard was them revoking the amendment."

"We proved to them it was necessary to get both of us out." She shrugged, slowly lowering herself back into the chair in which she had fallen asleep. "We love each other too much to be apart." She finished as if feeling like she had to say it out loud, her eyes shifted around the room rapidly, searching, before falling back upon him. He blew off the statement altogether, knowing, especially now, how false it was.

"How did I get here?"

"When you disappeared into the cornucopia, your tracker registered you as dead. Two peacekeepers came down to retrieve you, but one of them refused to leave your body. Later, when it was time for Peeta and I to return to District 12, he pulled me aside and told me you were still alive. I didn't believe him, not after having seen what the mutts did to you. But he took me to where he'd hidden you. I still don't know why, how did he know I wouldn't rat him out?" She shrugged lightly, not seeming to realize that anyone who looked at her knew she would never be the Capital's pawn. "He asked me to take you somewhere safe, where you could heal and live."

"And you did?" He responded incredulously, unable to believe she would bring a monster like him into what should be her sanctuary.

"None of us deserved this." Katniss responded softly, looking down and playing with the sleeve of her well-worn leather jacket. The pair remained silent for a moment, Cato digesting Katniss' sacrifice, Katniss wondering what type of mistake she had made.

"There are some who deserved that. The ones running it." His face took on an angry scowl; Katniss looked at him in shock and suspicion.

"What game are you playing, Cato?"

"You know nothing about me, Girl on Fire." His head turned away, angry at himself for already making a muck of their first conversation, but unable to contain his rage at the Capital.

"I know I don't, which is why I can't get over how stupid I am for having brought you here! And my name is Katniss, Katniss!" When Cato didn't respond, she stood from the chair, moving to the other side of the bed and leaned over him, hoping to intimidate him. Instead all she got was his fixed stare upon her, much more schooled in the art of deceptive expressions. For a long moment they stared at one another, their faces each softening in turn as they took in each other's features, knowing neither was the enemy.

"I think I understand." Katniss said, breaking the tense silence.

"I doubt it." Cato replied, unable to keep the snarky side of him contained despise his unusual unwillingness to want her to be subjected to his darker side. Katniss, not one to take unwarranted discontent, stood straight again, scowling at Cato.

"A name is an identity. A name makes me a person: not a tribute, not an enemy, a person! A name was given to me by two people who joined to make me, raise me, and love me. A name is used by those who would have wept had you succeeded in killing me. Every single person you killed in that arena had a name that is, even now, being cried into hands of mourning families and friends!" Her voice rose with each statement, forcing him to hear her when all he wanted was to throw her from the room. His jaw clenched as he pinned Katniss with the full force of the anger boiling within him. She took a quick step back, wanting to flee as badly as he wanted her out of that room.

"And who is crying for me? The father who told me to return victorious or die as I deserve? The mother who hasn't spoken to me since my first day at training so as to not grow attached to the son who may not return home? Or how about the Capital citizens who cheered for every life I took and yet now are drinking and eating themselves into oblivion in celebration of my death? Whose families mourn the lives you took? Tell me, Girl on Fire, do you think of those who will never leave that arena because of you? Or do you brush it off because you believed we deserved it for being Careers?"

Katniss' mouth opened and closed as the tables were turned on her. As memories of the Games surfaced, still so fresh and raw, she felt the sinking feeling deep within at the faces of those she had killed and the slow slackening of their bodies before they fell. Cato watched as her eyes glowed brightly with unshed tears and immediately he felt true remorse. His face softened, a hand brushing over his eyes and covering his eyes to hide the image of Katniss standing there, nearly weeping because of him. This wasn't going how he expected at all; he was bumbling his way through this introduction like a blind man leading an excavation through treacherous caverns.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, uncovering his face to look at her. She had wrapped her arms around her abdomen, refusing to meet his gaze. "You're as much of a victim as they are, if not more. They no longer care; we are left to face life without them and what we were forced to do."

"How can you, of all people, hate the Capital?"

"Because I was dead before I ever walked into that arena."

The two remained in silence, contemplation shrouding the atmosphere around them, the magnitude of them simply being in the same room together hitting the pair hard. Katniss eventually sighed, regarding Cato once again.

"Be careful with your movements. The bites were deep and the stitches keep coming out. I can't stay here with you tonight, there's too much suspicion on me right now. As soon as we can, we'll be moving you somewhere even safer. It is out of the District walls, but completely hidden from view. I promise you'll be safe there. I'm going to give you something to help sleep, but is there anything you want before I go?"

Cato shook his head, biting back the remark swirling in his mind that asked her not to leave at all. Katniss nodded, mixing the drink for him and setting it on the table next to his bed. With only a quick look his direction as a farewell, her soft footfalls left the room and eventually the open and close of a door signaled her departure. Cato felt her absence in the cooling of the room and acute loneliness. He may have bungled this meeting, but there was still something in the air that drew every thought to her. It was as though his mind couldn't wrap itself around what she meant to him, and thus he was incapable of choosing how he wanted to react. She brought out the best in him, but maybe the worst lurked as well, ready to pounce and show his true colors.

He pushed out a frustrated breath and looked to the concoction sitting innocently on the table beside him. Anything that would give him a few hours peace was sorely welcomed at this point. He went to reach for the cup with his mangled arm, only to watch as it barely lifted from the bed before falling back down again.

* * *

**So, much like Cato, I felt like I did not do this chapter/first meeting justice. I shall definitely work to make up for that on the next chapter! Those two are like a lit match and TNT. Sorry for the shortness of the chapter as well, I am blinking off, but I refused to give up until I had gotten this finished!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Come on, damnit, move. Move, you useless piece of meat." Cato growled, sweat sheening his forehead and upper lip, teeth grit at the effort he was exerting. His arm, the object of his intense focus, barely moved. His fist clenched subtly, but held no power. He doubted anything would remain in his grasp, no matter how tightly he closed his hand. It had been days since he had awoken in Katniss' home and he had spent every moment of it trying to regain some semblance of control over the injured parts of his body. While his lacerated arm seemed to be recuperating just fine, the arm and shoulder mangled by the muttation was steadfastly remaining a waste of tissue.

Irritation scrunched his face and he knocked the pillow roughly from the bed, ignoring the thump of the rough cushion falling to the floor. He stood, pacing the small room as his confinement made his very skin crawl. He was sick of being trapped within these four walls, sick of surviving only on what Katniss delivered to him, as though he were a helpless child who had to be cared for entirely. Even still, she barely stayed in the room with him and often deserted him without a word, even seeming to wait until moments when he was asleep or detained in the shower to make her deliveries. Often he would come back into a room to find a freshly filled basket waiting for him as though some sort of fairy had replenished his supplies then disappeared, her good deed completed.

Cabin fever was taking its toll though. In such a short time he already began to resent the sign of the delivered goods and brief visits. He was a man of action and this entrapment with no goals was leaving him in a permanently irate state, but in his mind he could not blame himself for why Katniss so often refused to even look at him. To him, she was being irrational and childish. The second pillow was struck from the bed before his pacing resumed, his good hand lifting to rub over his face. The only thing he could do in this place was his own physical therapy, and with the results being meager and unsatisfactory, Cato felt every second pass by like the long stretch of a hallway that never seemed to end. The light was out of his reach and the blackness was leeching into his core.

The front door opened and closed, Cato fell completely still and listened. Katniss' soft footfalls began to move through the house and he relaxed, but did not move. If she believed him to be asleep, she would venture further in than if she knew him to be actively prowling. He felt her presence drawing closer and he smiled, the expression did not reach his eyes.

Soon Katniss was in the room, her delivery perched in the crook of her arm and her jacket draped over the other, it was unseasonably warm today. When Katniss was far enough in the room to be trapped, Cato moved like swift, silent lightning and closed the door, blocking her only way out. She froze, but maintained a calm façade as she turned to look at him. He could practically hear the thudding of her heart within her chest, but did catch the barely perceptible hitch of her breath.

"Good morning." He said gently, the softness of his voice belying the look of irritated determination upon his face.

"Good morning, Cato." Katniss replied, remaining still and eyeing him with the same suspicion she had had when he had first woken from his pain induced sleep. Though he had grown used to the look, it still caused a faint twinge of sadness deep inside of him where the emotions he would never share went to fester. The pair stood awkwardly, sharing not a word, for what seemed like hours before Cato leaned back against the door, unable to even put on his usual intimidating expression when his useless arms wouldn't cross in front of him.

"You have been avoiding me."

"I have been here every single day."

"Yes, you have. Like a thief in the night and then you flee like you're running from rabid Peacekeepers."

A loud sigh emitted from her lips and she did cross her arms, staring at him point blank for the first time in days. She tapped her foot once, twice, three times upon the floor before tilting her chin up slightly, willing herself to try and get the upper hand.

"What exactly is it that you want, Cato?"

"You said you would be taking me somewhere else, somewhere safer. Would that mean I would no longer be locked inside like a dirty family secret?"

"Yes. It's completely out of sight of everyone, even the nosiest of Peacekeepers. It's too risky to move you now though, there's a lot of focus on District 12 lately." Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, eyes dropping to the floor as she told the half-truth. The reality was she was hesitant to share her private space with him just yet; it felt like an invasion of what gave her such peace. Cato, however, only saw her lengthening his imprisonment. Several steps, expedited from his aggravation, brought her directly in front of him until his breath was blew warmly against her skin and she trembled ever so faintly at the close proximity of their bodies.

"Look, I don't know why you are both helping and trapping me, but I can't stay here anymore. I feel like a wild animal that has been shoved into a tiny cage and left alone for days on end without even the space to spin in circles to ease my restlessness. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be confined like this? I am trapped. Trapped! I can barely breathe in here and I feel like any moment the walls are going to collapse in on me and I will suffocate!"

A strange look crossed Katniss' face before her body straightened, her eyes lifting to meet his. For the first time she not only stared him straight in the eyes, but leaned toward him, forcing him to tilt back or have their noses bump. For the first time, Katniss was challenging him, he would have felt admiration had his nerves not been at wits end.

"You have absolutely no idea what entrapment and suffocation feels like, Cato. None whatsoever. Be glad for that." Her eyes shot sparks at him, making the grey light up like fire glowing from within. Her name suddenly seemed to truly suit her and Cato had to fight a smile as he eyed her with appreciation. Another sigh blew from her lips and he found himself looking downward briefly to eye the fullness of her mouth before looking back up to her eyes. "I'm sorry; I know this isn't easy for any of us. I can't stand being locked indoors either." Her gaze shifted away from him to look outside, watching the groups of people indulging in the Capital's extravagant gifts for the winning district. "Tonight. I'll get you there tonight. Tomorrow I'll show you how to survive there so you will be able to handle yourself when I have to tour."

"I can survive just fine." Cato responded, hackles rising a bit at the question of his ability to provide. Katniss slowly smiled, looking back at him. Almost instantaneously a peace washed over Cato and he couldn't maintain the effort of remaining irritated. He was too busy admiring the way the smile stole away any vestiges of sorrow and the weight of her responsibilities, leaving behind a young woman on the verge of stealing the breath from his lungs. He took a quick step back, struggling to regain control over his rapidly changing intentions. "Well, I had better get a head start on packing if I need to be prepared to leave by tonight."

Katniss started, unable to stop the short bark of a laugh that came as a response to unexpected joke from Cato. The tension between them dropped dramatically and the two grinned at each other before Katniss quickly moved away, confused at this new version of Cato standing before her.

"Pack lightly, Cato. It's a long walk and I'm not carrying anything for you." She shot him one last mischievous look before moving around him and leaving. Cato listened for the closing of the front door before moving to sit down on the bed. Outside he was back to projecting a mask of indifference, inside a kaleidoscope of emotions was churning into a mass of unidentifiable confusion, child's playroom with too many toys and too little motivation to sort through them. Cato turned to look outside, watching as Katniss disappeared into the crowd with stealthy ease. He looked at his mangled arm and, once again, began working to get the limb back into working order.

* * *

Night had fallen a few hours earlier and Cato paced the room, his favorite activity of late, waiting for Katniss to return. Impatience had consumed him again and he grunted discontent under his breath, masking the fear that she would not come for him at all. Just when his body was becoming overrun with nervous energy, he heard the familiar sound of the door and immediately went to meet her. She was alone, which surprised him, though not as much as the backpack slung over her shoulders. He eyed it and looked to her, cocking an eyebrow upward.

"It's easier to just stay there with you tonight…" Katniss answered his unspoken question, a hint of a blush crawling up her neck. "Less likely to get caught going back and forth too many times." She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from side to side before raising her hands up. "Are you ready?"

"Ready enough that I am about to barrel through this door if you don't lead the way now." His eyebrow lowered and his expression turned mockingly serious. She rolled her eyes in response and left, leaving him to extinguish the last lamp in the house before following after her. They moved in silence, unwilling to risk a conversation that could pique the interest of a late night dweller. Katniss' eyes darted around them constantly, her feet accustomed to the journey. Cato followed swiftly alongside her, though he had to pay close attention to his feet, the dark and foreign surroundings robbing him of some of his agility. He sucked in a full breath of air, enjoying the freedom of being outside again, even if that meant taking in the tainted, bitter air of the coal district. They approached the district boundary and Cato waited for her to stop, instead she moved alongside the fence before slipping through a small opening and continuing. It took a moment for her to realize he wasn't following and come back.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, the sound harsh from her attempt at remaining quiet yet discernible.

"This thing isn't electrified? How is that possible?"

"The Capital doesn't tend to pay much attention to us. Most of us are too starved to have the energy for a fight." Their eyes met through the fence, another moment where Cato was left to fully feel the implications of what their upbringings had done to them. Without another word Cato climbed through the fence, his larger frame catching painfully on the fringes. Their trek continued. The thick woods made even Katniss slow down and they made their way at a reduced pace. At one point she had him stop before she moved away, he listened to her rustle about for a moment before she returned, bow and arrow slung over her shoulders. They continued again, silence remaining their companion as both focused on remaining upright.

The trees broke and a clearing became visible. The moon reflected as brightly below as it did above and Cato realized there was a large lake as still and clear as glass. Slowly he walked up to the edge of the water, inhaling deeply the scent of cool, crispness and rich vegetation. Feeling far more at peace, Cato turned to Katniss as she watched him curiously. Her arm lifted to indicate a bit farther away and he saw a concrete cabin, small, but sturdy. Vines and moss grew over it like a large stone set deep in the forest. They walked together to the cabin and Katniss set her lamp down on the table inside. Down went her backpack and the bow and arrows she had collected inside the woods.

"What is this place?" He asked with interest, eyeing the little fireplace and basic supplies about the room.

"My father's cabin. He used to take me here when I was young, taught me how to hunt and fish. Some of the best moments of my life were spent here." She refused to look at him as she spoke, feeling some of her soul being bared to him as she spoke. Instead she focused on laying out what she had brought: matches, fishing tools, basic cooking gear, some clothes for him. Cato watched the growing pile of items and was again amazed at how quickly she had taken to caring for his well-being when only a week ago they were hunting each other with deadly intent. He also did not miss the sorrow coloring her words.

"What happened to him?"

"An explosion in the mines, they collapsed." Her eyes remained averted though her hands were now only toying with the items on the table, having nothing further to unpack. Cato understood the rest and felt like the scum of the earth for his earlier remarks.

"I'm sorry." He said softly, for both her loss and his crass words spoken in ignorance.

"Let's get some sleep. In the morning I can show you how to make good use of this place." With that she set up his sleeping bag, hers already prepared on the opposite side of the room. They settled down, her body quickly lulled into a fitful sleep, his too amped to allow him the luxury of rest. Instead he listened to her steady breaths that eventually grew into a rapid tempo of chaotic fear and memories. She rolled, mumbled, moaned in fear, but did not awaken. Without thought Cato slipped from his spot on the floor and moved to her side, his voice mumbling barely coherent sounds of comfort and helplessness. Slowly he raised his good arm, fingers lightly grazing up the softness of her cheek and into the hair that had fallen free of the braid. He felt its silken texture and closed his eyes, inhaling the subtle sweetness of her scent. He continued to caress softly, allowing himself this unguarded moment of appreciation for the girl who had done so much for him and demanded so little in return.

Eventually she fell still, the nightmare passing into the night and replaced with the soft tones of his voice lulling her into a quiet slumber. Cato went back to his sleeping bag, looking into the darkness until he too was finally welcomed into Morpheus' embrace.

* * *

He awoke as the morning light stabbed through his eyelids. Opening them, he spotted Katniss braiding her disheveled hair. His lips twitched into a smile at the memory of touching that softness in the dark. Katniss finished and looked to him, seeing his stare, she shifted uncomfortably. Without a word she gave him a piece of bread, a luxury she still treated with reverence despite not having faced down hunger since returning from The Games. They ate in silence and then Katniss showed him how to prepare the fishing rod then they went outside to hunt for insects that could be used as bait. Cato watched in amazement as Katniss handled worms, beetles, and other crawlers with ease when his own mother would have squawked in fear at the sight of the harmless creatures. Another thing to add to the list of her admirable qualities, another reason he doubted any girl in Two could live up to her.

When it came time to bait their hooks, Katniss stabbed through the worm and carefully looped it around. He clumsily moved the hook at his worm and watched over and over again as it danced away mockingly, unscathed. Katniss watched the growing frustration on Cato's face and stifled a giggle, earning a warning glance from Cato as she tried to fix her face into one of complete seriousness.

"Would you like some help?" She asked, moving a bit closer to him. Cato shook his head, mumbling under his breath about not accepting defeat against a worm. Another grin from her and several minutes later Cato triumphantly lifted his fishing rod to show off the badly mangled worm on the end.

"Great." Katniss said, wondering if there was enough worm left to even entice the skinniest of fish. They then moved to the edge of the lake and she showed him how to cast, her own lure falling gracefully into the water at a decent distance, his nearly scratching her cheek the first time and tangling against itself the second. Soon enough they were both waiting for a tug to happen, remaining in companionable silence. Cato grew impatient, foot tapping against the ground as he waited.

"You're going to scare them all off if you keep stomping like that."

"What's more likely is the strength of it will just rock them out of the water." He replied without even looking at her. She looked at him, trying to figure out his humor. His face gave nothing away and he remained turned away from her, watching the smooth water for a hint of life. More time and several re-casts later and Cato excitedly tugged his fishing rod as he reeled in his first catch. Katniss tried to show him how to set the hook; instead he gave a hard pull on an empty line and lost his balance, falling into the lake water with a sharp cry of surprise. The loud splashed resonated around her before he loudly sputtered water from his mouth and got to his feet, water dripping heavily from his clothes and murderous intent in his eyes.

Katniss couldn't stop herself; within seconds she had bent slightly and laughter burst from her lips. Cato stared at her in both surprise and rage, embarrassment making his good fist clench and unclench repeatedly. But as her laughter continued and her face brightened with joy, Cato couldn't help but see the humor in the situation and began to laugh with her, his heavier chuckles blending with hers. For the first time the pair stood as regular teenagers, laughing happily in the sun without a care in the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Cato pulled his second, and last, pair of pants up and to his hips, fastening them carefully before tugging the shirt over his head. Outside Katniss draped the clothing over branches where the sun's rays were the strongest. Her fingers slid over the fabric a moment too long as she imagined the heat was from him. Cato emerged from the cabin and grabbed the fishing rod once again, she settled by his side and in silence they spent the day at the side of the lake.

The sun began to lower in the sky, offering a reprieve from the heat blasting them throughout the day. Cato watched Katniss deftly clean the fish, scraping the scales as though it was second nature. She discarded the organs in the river, offering them to the creatures as sustenance before they carried the fish into the cabin. Several minutes later he had learned how to start a fire from scratch and the fish were frying in the pan, the aroma filling the tiny space and making Cato's stomach growl impatiently. They had also found edible roots to cook with the fish for roughage. They sat at the table quietly, watching the glow of the fire play upon the walls around them.

"What was it like growing up here?" Cato looked to Katniss, watching as her face twisted in discomfort and she shifted slightly in her chair. Finally she looked up at him and he was satisfied to see a slight blush crawling up her neck as her gaze slid over his jaw and mouth. She cleared her throat and looked back to the fish, poking at them slightly with the cooking utensil.

"Hard. From infancy we know hunger, wanting, loss. The mines are dangerous; no family goes through life without losing someone dear to them. Every day is a gamble as to whether you're about to lose a loved one." She paused, looking at him again for a moment. "But some things are easier. We are allowed more freedoms than some districts. I remember Rue…" A pause as she gathered herself, tears forming in her eyes and grief thickening her voice. "She told me about how they would work from sun up until sun down, there was no talking, just work. The Peacekeepers were there for the Capital and the Capital alone. In District 12 they are almost like one of us. They trade with us, they look the other way when they can, and they understand us. We are both cursed and blessed; sometimes it's hard to remember that. Especially during The Reaping, when it isn't about sending us off for glory, but to slaughter."

She kept her eyes fixed on him as she finished, not afraid to show him her disapproval, the pain the more poor districts felt at sending their cherished children off to die against districts that excelled in the art of death.

"Yes, we are favored." He admitted, meeting her gaze steadily. "We are trained from a young age to hold our own and win in The Games. But we have the chance to ensure our family comes home, we teach them what they need to know in order to return to their mothers and fathers. Can you really tell us we are wrong for doing that? From your viewpoint we are the devils; to us we are responsible for every life that leaves to compete in the arena. We are giving them the best chance we can."

Katniss huffed, leaning back in her chair and glowering at him.

"You break the law but the Capital turns away because you are the special child. You steal the chance of the others to see the return of their offspring. Everyone else watches helplessly as their own are slaughtered, the Careers revel in the deaths."

Cato closed his eyes briefly, opening them only to gaze down at the table. What could he offer her as an explanation? It was true; they broke the law in order to send warriors to slaughter the lambs. They were wolves or lions, skilled predators that thrived on the hunting of the weak. Yet Cato still felt her accusations were directed at him and him alone.

"We are the perfect pawns of the Capital, aren't we?" Cato finally whispered, his eyes shut and head leaned back, unwilling to look at her as he spoke, knowing she would be angry at what he was about to say. "We were born innocent of all of this bickering between districts, all of us with possibilities that most will never discover. Yet here we are, still pointing fingers and laying blame at each other. Is it the Careers you hate, or are we just safer to point fingers at?"

His eyes opened, gaze lowering to look at her. Instead of the enragement he was expecting, Cato was the subject of her scrutiny. A long moment passed where neither said anything, only the cracking of burning wood and fish fat kept the room from suffocating them with its silence.

"We are victims too, you know. Marvel, Glimmer, Clove… none of them will ever see their homes again." Cato began tapping his fingers on the table, releasing his frustration against his fingertips. "I listened to their hopes and dreams for themselves and then watched as they died, only having known cold shoulders and threats."

"You never knew hunger, you never knew true fear."

"That's a bullshit cop out answer if I have ever heard one." Cato shook his head at her. "You knew love while we knew taunts. You grew up as children, we were trained as warriors. I have never fished with my father or learned skills from my mother. I have gone my entire life never knowing if my mother was capable of smiling or if my father loves me as his child or I was a way of bringing glory to himself."

Katniss opened her mouth for another rebuttal, but Cato had had enough of the entire conversation.

"Quit the self-pity, it doesn't become you."

"Or you." Cato looked up in surprise at her then smiled, earning him a tentative smile from her in return.

"It is pointless, isn't it?" She said, taking the pan with the now slightly smoldering fish from the fire. "I've spent my entire life hating your district when you're just another result of the Capital's hold over all of us."

Cato nodded, but did not speak. Mentally he was exhausted from the entire conversation and the cloud it had hung over the pair, a stark reality that they truly were from completely different worlds, but in another life could have grown up like true children together.

"Tell me more about your district, but not about what it means to be from there, I want to understand."

And so she talked, telling him about the seam, the hob, how people could sometimes truly come together when need presented itself. He listened to everything as he ate the slightly burned fish, fascinated by the dynamics of her district and amazed at what the people did to not only endure, but make a true life for their people. As he listened, he also felt raw rage forming underneath the calm exterior. It was an anger formed from helplessness, a feeling he cherished as much as a knife through the temple. None of them truly had a choice in anything, not really. Volunteer or not, those from his district were taught from such a young age that volunteering was an honor and privilidge that they never really understood they were only dying for the fleeting enjoyment of those who demanded their blood as a sacrifice for a wound inflicted far too long ago. But maybe, just maybe, his 'death' would offer him an opportunity to really make a change.

Hours later, with their voices hoarse from sharing stories, Cato lay in his sleeping bag and stared sightlessly at the black ceiling above him. He was lost in the vivid recollections of Katniss' life and his intense need to seek revenge on all those who had made a lie out of his childhood. His hot headed nature told him to just rush into the Capital with guns blazing and that was how he knew he was nowhere near ready. But listening to Katniss' soft breathing reminded him that there were so many peaceful moments robbed from so many every single day. How had it come down to this? How had so many succumbed to such a macabre decision by so few? How had they bowed for so long that they no longer knew what the sky looked like?

So lost in his tortured thoughts, Cato almost missed the disturbance in Katniss' even breaths until the whimpers began. He turned toward her though he could not see, listening to the nightmare that took her once again in sleep. Carefully he made his way over to her, whispering in her ear once again. This time she did not fall still under his comforting ministrations, but instead her eyes opened. As she gazed up at him, unshed tears caught the glow of the moon and reflected it back at him. He didn't ask of what she so often dreamed or why they tormented her so powerfully. Instead he lifted his hand to stroke over her cheek with his fingertips, again cherishing the softness of her hair with gentle caresses. Katniss didn't move beneath him except to study the contours of his face as he felt the curves of hers.

Unable to fight temptation for another moment, Cato lowered until his lips fell upon hers. Taken by surprise, Katniss didn't return the kiss until moments later when Cato's lips became insistent. Their mouths played upon one another and his hand gripped her hair gently, holding her to him until the hunger enveloped so strongly that he broke it, resting his forehead against hers while fighting the pounding of his heart. Still no words came, and he doubted any that did form would belie his confused state. Instead he simply moved to release his grip in her hair in order to gather her to him, curving his body protectively around hers. He fell asleep like that, contentment warring with shock within his mind.

When he awoke she was gone, his body still slightly curled from where she had laid in his arms. He again cursed the gimp arm that had fallen uncontrolled to the side and allowed her to slip from his embrace undetected. He stood, stretching the kinks from his sore muscles before noticing a slip of paper barely peeking out from underneath the backpack she had brought with her supplies. Tugging the paper slowly, a feeling of dread already taking hold, Cato lifted the paper to read as a small fold of money fell to the floor.

"_Cato,_

_My absence is going to be noticed soon, I had to go back. The Victory Tour is about to start, so I won't be back for a while. If you run out of something you can't catch, go to the Hob and find Greasy Sae, she will hel—_"

The paper crumpled in his hand before falling to the floor to join the money he had disregarded.

* * *

**Not too terribly pleased with this one, but it needed to be done in order to have those two work things out a bit. But now comes some of the fun parts, time to get some more drama and action going on in here!**


	11. Chapter 11

The hours passed agonizingly slowly, marking the days that followed like years upon his mind. Used to structured moments from day break to end, Cato forced himself up to strengthen his body every morning. He would work until sweat fell off of him like he was in a rainfall, until his muscles burned with a fire that heated him from the inside as much as the sun from the outside. One arm remained invalid, hanging at his side like a mockery of the situation he was in. As the days passed he found himself becoming more and more restless, and thus more and more irate at his surroundings. The birds calling to him in the morning were an unwelcome distraction and earned his angry taunts, the fish that did not bite had rocks thrown at them and the ones that did were obviously doomed to his frying pan. More than once he lost as much meat as he consumed and often enough poked his throat with missed bones even still.

He was in torment and he wondered if he had traded one misspent life for another. Was this how his life would go? Mornings lost in the only pastime he enjoyed, working his body into oblivion; only to end up spending the rest idly passing the days with fishing, the odd hunting trip, and hiding. He felt like a hermit and the lack of any social activities, except for his odd conversation with a passing snail or errant squirrel, was leading him into far too deeply into his own mind.

"More than likely she's off with Lover Boy, mocking the idiot locked in the woods back home," he muttered to the beetle as it crawled on the rock beside him. "I couldn't even fault her. What was I thinking? How did I even end up here? Was I dehydrated enough to think I could make any sort of difference like this?" He looked down only to discover even the beetle had tired of his whining and disappeared in the thick but brittle grass. Did it ever rain here? With a grunt he dropped his fishing pole to the side, aggravated at the lack of interest in the fish and tired of this impotent feeling that never left his body.

"And you," he growled at his limp arm, "might as well be hacked off and eaten for the usefulness you have to me right now. Of course she would laugh at me with Lover Boy when I'm back here like half a man. One useless arm and all talk, but no action. My father was right, wasn't he? Come back as a victor or die the waste that I am. I might be better off dead, especially sounding like a lovesick puppy." He huffed, curling up his legs and leaning his good elbow on to one knee. He refused to acknowledge that he was in danger of turning into Peeta in one way: Katniss.

Suddenly the fishing rod jerked once, twice, three times… then began to be pulled into the water. He dived for it, earning himself a face full of mud, debris and the sensation of the fishing pole gliding with ease from his weak hand. He spit the gunk clouding his mouth with disgusting ooze and roughly scraped the muck from his eyes. The fishing pole was completely gone.

"No! God damnit, no! Damnit!" He didn't even resist the tantrum this time and grabbed any rock available to throw into the water, not satisfied as the splashes formed brief fountains of liquid before stillness overtook the lake again. When he had spent his anger he sat back down to the ground, putting his face into one hand and squeezing his hair with aggravation. With no fishing rod and only a knife for hunting, Cato knew he was not going to last long on what he could only forage. The brief time he had spent with Katniss had only given him limited knowledge, especially since half of him continuously wandered to paying attention to her and her alone. The sunlight playing in her hair and setting it alight, the sparkle in her eye (especially when he said something to annoy her) and the nimble way her hands took care of any task to which he presented.

Slowly his attention turned to the cabin and he stood, moving inside and straight to the table where the fold of money she had left laid flat and barely handled. He picked it up, fingers stroking over the smooth bills. He somewhat remembered how to get back to the district boundary and knew if he went to the Hob he could find supplies to keep him going and maybe, just maybe, something else with which to occupy his time. Curiosity also piqued his interest excessively, wondering what life for him would have been like if he had been born in District 12 instead of stuck in it. With only a slim moment of further hesitation, Cato grabbed his jacket and pulled the hood over his head. He hadn't seen his face in almost a month by that point and had no idea the damage that had been done to it, but he didn't dare leave without covering himself in case a particularly observant person happened upon him.

He took one last look at the cabin and spotted the crumpled paper still rolled up on the floor. A moment passed as he stood, staring at the paper, then gave in. He bent and grabbed the paper, unrolling it carefully before pressing it to the table to work out the kinks in it.

"_Cato,_

_My absence is going to be noticed soon, I had to go back. The Victory Tour is about to start, so I won't be back for a while. If you run out of something you can't catch, go to the Hob and find Greasy Sae, she will help you. I have left some money behind for you to use. Also, I left a few markings along the way so you won't get lost. Thought of everything, didn't I? Rest and pull yourself together, Cato. I'll be back soon._

_Thank you for last night._

_-K"_

Cato's eyes opened in surprise, he re-read the letter several times before lifting his gaze from the page to stare blankly at the wall. What did it mean "thanks for last night"? Had she wanted the kiss as much as he had? Was she thinking just to have someone there to chase the nightmares away? Was Peeta doing that for her now?

A growl filled the room and it took a while to register that the sound was coming from his own throat. He brushed the image of the pair cuddled together off, only willing to entertain the idea that it was his touch she had been grateful for and what had soothed her. That was the only true answer and he allowed a smirk to touch and curl his lips before he left the cabin and went to the small break in the woods that signified the path they had used.

Several steps in led him to a tree with a small arrow etched into the thick bark. He chuckled quietly, noticing the arrow looked just like one of hers. Was he being led to the slaughter in town by her arrows? He mused at the idea and kept going, only getting lost for a few minutes at a time until another, barely discernible, arrow was found and he was on his way again. At the edge of the woods he waited, studying the long line of the fence, ready to see a Peacekeeper or other official come into sight and impede his way into the district. Nothing, not even a breeze blew to touch the fence. Cautiously he took one step out, then another, pausing again to wait and see. Nothing. How was it possible the boundary was so poorly guarded? Did the Capital truly believe 12 was so little of a threat that they required no supervising? The Capital's trust in their strength could certainly play into his advantage, if used correctly, and Cato was thankful for the smugness of Snow.

With careful steps Cato made his way to the fence and walked quietly alongside it, finding the break in the wires he needed to climb through. After forcing his hulking frame through, he made his way quickly to the streets, keeping his head down and looking around as best as he could from under the hood. There was minimal activity around him and he recalled Katniss mentioning how almost all men above Reaping age would be in the mines at this time of day. Glancing down at his maimed arm, he decided that would be his best excuse for not working in them. As he walked the streets, Cato was struck by how muted and decrepit everything looked. Grey was the predominant tone to almost every building, street and sight he could see. He wondered if it was truly the coal dust as Katniss had mentioned or if the hopelessness of the district had caused everything to fall permanently somber.

Finally he spotted the old coal warehouse away from the main area and headed straight for it. Inside he was overwhelmed with the characters within and the stands that offered items he never would have used in his old life. Pigs intestines? Wild dog soup? He shook his head to clear it of shock and walked up to a man well past his years of youth and vigor. The man eyed him with strong suspicion as he approached.

"Where is Greasy Sae?" He inquired, unable to stop himself from simply being authoritative when quiet regard was his best mode of communication. The man curled his lip before pointing to an old woman situated at one of the larger stands. She worked over a steaming pot, sleeves rolled up and hair falling in disarray. Cato nodded his thanks and went over to her.

"Sae?" The woman looked to him, eyes squinting studiously at him.

"Who are you?" She responded brusquely and he couldn't help but smile, admiring forthright people far more than meek.

"Katniss sent me." He left it at that, eyeing her and waiting for a reaction. The eyes remained squinting, trying to figure him out.

"That didn't quite answer, did it?"

He stood a moment in thought, wondering what the likelihood of someone selling out his name to the Capital for a reward would be in a place like this. Slowly, hesitantly, he tugged back part of the hood to make his face fully visible to her. She gasped faintly, drawing the attention of another vendor nearby.

"You're that awful boy from the Games." She whispered to him, leaning in closer. He flinched slightly but remained quietly staring at her, not responding to the bold statement. He wasn't a good boy; there was no argument from him. "She told me you might be comin' but I didn't believe she'd be that stupid. Crazy girl. Finally starvin' out there, are ya?"

She turned away from him without waiting for a reply, scooping a healthy sized bowl of whatever fragrant (and not necessarily in a good way) mixture it was she was making in that pot. She set it down on the table in front of him and he looked down, trying to keep the distaste from his face.

"Nothin' fancy today, what with Katniss bein' gone so long. But it'll do you better than bugs, I'd imagine."

"Of that, I have no doubt." He dipped the spoon into the bowl; not even wanting to know what could be contained within it, and took a large mouthful. He still couldn't place what was in it, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it smelled and he contentedly appeased his growling stomach with the soup.

"What made you come out here?" She questioned, leaning away from him enough to cross her arms. Cato took a few more mouthfuls, waiting for the tightness in his gut to go away.

"The fishing pole broke." Was his only response, refusing to admit his temper had bested him again.

"Was that before or after your mud bath?"

He started, eyes widening as realization came to him that he hadn't done a damn bit of cleaning before he left and was still wearing all the lake water and mud that he had face planted in. If he hadn't been so dirty the blush would have made him look like a chagrined school boy.

"Keeps you looking young. Never tried it?" He looked straight at her as he spoke and caught the moment her mouth opened wide in a cackle-laugh that just about made him jump.

"Smart assed boy." She chortled, shaking her head and giving the pot another stir. "I can see why she likes ya. Let's see about getting you fixed up with some supplies, hmm?"

He nodded, downing the rest of his soup appreciatively before following her to another vendor. The startled man backed quickly away from him before Greasy Sae grabbed his arm, belying a strength her bony frame didn't project. She whispered a few harsh words to the man, who immediately turned away and began grabbing from his stand.

As Cato waited patiently, beginning to almost enjoy the underground atmosphere and nature of the business, he caught the conversations of some of the other vendors. They chattered on despite the weird goings on in front of him between Greasy Sae and the other vendor, doubting weird transactions were something truly out of the ordinary here.

"Can you believe those two are getting married? Barely out of childhood!"

"Especially bein' she barely spent any time around the boy when they were here. You'd almost think she hated him what with they acted. Engaged? Doesn't make a lick'a sense. None at all."

"Wonder if it's something in the water. Those Capital people are right outta their minds, probably infectin' those two."

Cato stopped listening, his mind reeling. There was only two people that could have provoked these conversations. Engaged? Married? Katniss and Peeta? His face darkened and his good hand clenched, the tell-tale sign of his rage. 'So that's how it was going to be?' He thought, once again feeling like the world's dumbest fool. And he couldn't wait for her to get back to express it.

* * *

**My only note for the day: All of you are truly amazing!**


	12. Chapter 12

"_Young girl living in a dirty town_

_The big world trying hard to pull her down_

_No love and sick of being pushed around_

_She's stopped believing.._

_Someone would ever want to hold her tight_

_For just one second in her lonely life_

_Young girl, I wish I could open her eyes_

_Cos she can't see that.._

_She's beautiful, I know but she doesn't know_

_She can't shake her heartache, her teenage dreams have gone to waste_

_She's beautiful, I know but she doesn't know that that's the case_"

Lee MacDougall - "She"

* * *

**Katniss**

The landscape began to blur into a kaleidoscope of colors: greens, browns, oranges, blues… all blended and twirled before her vision until she was left staring at nature's pallet. Katniss sighed gently, the warmth of her breath blurring the window before fading into obscurity. She was thankful for the moment's respite from the Peacekeepers who had been dogging at her heels for the majority of the trip. It was enough to set her nerves on constant end, wondering what she was returning home to and if any of them would ever be safe again. Her finger stroked over her lips, remembering Cato's kiss with a hint of guilt. It had been on her mind more than she cared to admit and even now a flash of blond hair would cause her heart to beat like a caged wild bird struggling for escape. It didn't help that Peeta's hair was so similar and that she had allowed herself to seek the basic comforts from him on their journey.

The guilt intensified, except this time in the opposite direction. She knew Cato's caveman side would only strengthen if he knew Peeta spent nights with her, even if it was only innocently chasing the darkness away from each other's dreams. Several times she had even pretended it was him as Peeta's strong arms would grip her with the same steely-warmth that she imagined Cato would provide. But somehow even still her body would recognize it wasn't getting quite the satisfaction it wanted and she would drift off to sleep longing for something that wasn't there.

Footsteps entered the room again and her eyes closed, irritation sweeping over her nerves like lightning.

"I'm locked on a train, what exactly are you expecting from me?" Katniss spoke without looking, expecting the Peacekeeper's silence to be the only answer. Instead another voice piped up cheerfully before weight fell upon the seat next to her.

"Just the sunny personality we have all come to appreciate." Peeta grinned at her as she turned to look at him, earning a halfhearted smile back. His didn't dissipate, but some of the sparkle in his eyes did. "What's wrong, Katniss?"

"Wrong? Nothing. How could anything be wrong right now?" She shook her head, unhappy that she was taking out frustrations on the one person who truly didn't deserve any of it. It was another emotion she was growing steadily tired of experiencing: guilt. Guilt over being unable to love Peeta the way he needed and wanted her to, being unable to act it out to Snow's approval, wanting to be with the boy who had killed relentlessly in the Games but still made her feel safe somehow, and the worst of all… the guilt that all of that combined could lead to the very destruction of all those she loved so very much.

"How can you be so blasé about everything, Peeta? So optimistic, even now?" She turned back to the window, resting her forehead against the glass as she contemplated the ground rapidly rushing past.

"When was the last time you caught dinner by sitting at home and moping about being hungry?"

Katniss looked back at him and he stared back, staring straight into her eyes and for a moment she worried he would see her indecision warring inside.

"The minute I lose hope is the minute I die," he continued, moving to stroke errant hairs from her face. "Either because that means I have been robbed of who I am, or because I am a sitting duck waiting to be shot. I refuse to let that happen, to me or to you." He continued to stare into her eyes until she shifted uncomfortably, breaking the physical and visual contact they had maintained and looking back outside the window.

"You know I don't love you in the way that you love me. Right, Peeta?" She said softly, hating that she had to say them but knowing not doing so would be worse for him down the road. She heard him sigh and shift as well, straightening his body so that he was facing again and clasping his hands within his lap.

"Yes, I know. I won't give up hope on that too, though. When all of this is over I'll have more time to woo you like I know you need." She could sense the tease in his voice, but also the seriousness of his intent.

"All of this will never be over." She whispered, remembering the shake of Snow's head when she had silently asked of his approval. They were all dead unless she could think of a way to save her family. But where could they go where Snow's prying eyes would not see?

Katniss stood before the screen, watching in horror as the uprising in District 8 took place before her very eyes. She knew she should not be in the Mayor's quarters seeing this, but somehow she couldn't tear her eyes away to leave. This was her fault, all of it, and without a drastic move she was going to witness the devastation in her own district. She felt proud of those who had been strong enough to fight back; to at least try for a better life for themselves, but all Katniss could think about was the danger to her own family. There was nothing left to fight for when what you love is gone forever. She was about to turn away and sneak back to the party when more news forced her to remain glued where she was.

"_… conducting a thorough search of the arena, which yielded no positive results. We believe tribute Cato managed to escape and is on the loose. He should be considered armed and a tremendous threat to the Capital. We will be taking measures to thoroughly search each district for suspect Cato and anyone found to be harboring or aiding him in any way will be punished for the same crimes to the fullest extent possible. Up to and including death. In the meantime, be sure not to alarm district citizens or incite about this possible escape. Also ensure complete and total order is kept, anyone found to be encouraging anti-Capital behavior is to immediately be punished in a public forum._"

Breath caught in her chest and the weight upon her feet lifted, allowing her to finally back-step from the room until she could slip free and in to the hallway. There she ran into the Mayor, playing her innocent part as best as she was able. The distraction of what she had just witnessed nearly was her undoing, not being a particularly sound actress to begin with, but soon she had escaped.

After the festival she snuck from her room in Victor's Village, slipping through the darkness of the streets with ease and using the buildings to hide her journey. This moment both filled her with dread and excitement as a small amount of fear for him and of him intermingled and whispered enticingly in her ear. The strong, sensible Katniss shook her head and listed the cons of what she was doing, reminding her of who Cato had been. The hopeful, gentle Katniss remained equally as strong, speaking words of encouragement that no one who had saved her life in several ways in that arena could possibly be so dangerous to her. Except for the simple fact that he was quickly climbing the list of the Capital's most wanted, and how could she keep anyone safe from that type of danger? The citizens certainly weren't sighing from the fluttering of their hearts at an escape artist that could be unhinged.

She broke into the clearing, already feeling more peace entering her body at the sight of her familiar escape. The cabin sat as it always did, no light to show life within or movement to indicate another soul was present. She moved slowly toward it, unsure not of how she would tell Cato he was being hunted (as she doubted he would be surprised) but rather how they were going to fix it. How they could fix anything, in fact.

With a steadying breath, Katniss entered the cabin and walked a few steps. Her eyes took moments to adjust to the total darkness within and when they finally had, she couldn't locate Cato's sleeping form. She saw all of their supplies still strewn about in disorder, but no quietly slumbering figure rested upon the floor. Then the quiet click of the latching door caused her to spin and there he stood, leaned back against the wall. Slowly he perused her, eyes lingering in spots that made her blush in the darkness. She couldn't help but notice that he looked thinner, some of his hulking frame having leaned down. His muscles were still very visible and strong, but somehow the few weeks they had been separated had given the solitude time to make their mark. She made a mental note to bring some bread if she could.

"Welcome back, Fire Girl." Cato's voice broke her quiet study of him and she lifted her gaze to meet his, feeling a wave of concern at the cold steel to his tone. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come back."

"It was a long tour, and then there was the festival, and I came ri—"

"A wedding to plan, too. That can take a lot of time out of the day."

Her brows furrowed together in surprised confusion, tilting her head ever so slightly in contemplation.

"How did you find out about that?"

"I went to visit Greasy Sae and a lot of vendors there have very open mouths." He pushed from the wall and moved toward her. Katniss felt the way a rabbit must feel staring down the eyes of a hungry fox. Her feet went into auto-pilot, moving backwards and taking herself away from him. Eventually she hit a chair, falling into it heavily, ignoring the creaking groan of its protest. Cato continued his approach, staring down at her with barely concealed menace or frustration, whichever it was, she couldn't tell.

"Cato, there's a lot going on that I –"

"So it would seem. It must have been a very eventful train ride to yield those results. Much more exciting than staring at the same bushes, trees, and flat-fucking-water every single day, wouldn't you say?"

Katniss's mouth opened and shut several times like a fish out of water, gasping in unfamiliar territory. Fear crept into her eyes, only egging on the beast Cato often suppressed.

"Here I was, wracking my brain for days trying to figure out what I could do to help you, your district, everyone in this puny area… and then I begin to wonder what your letter meant between us. Only, in the end, to find out you're marrying Lover Boy. Is it a shotgun wedding, perhaps? Is something other than bread baking in an oven, Fire Girl?"

His arms stretched out, fingers pushing into the waters until he could lean down and bring his face to hers. One of his arms shook despite the attempt, proving the difficulty it had taken simply to manage that maneuver. She ignored it, feeling the fire he sparked growing within her stomach until it flashed brightly in her eyes. The intensity Cato always evoked in her strengthening her limbs until she stood hard and fast, fairly knocking him away from her from the speed of her resolved movements. He backed away somewhat, staring at her as she took a few angry breaths before beginning.

"Stubborn idiot," she growled out at him, earning a subtle grin from his lips before he became impassive once again. She sighed, shaking her head and turning somewhat from him. "There is far more going on than you could possibly know, so just stay quiet and listen to what I have to say, okay?" She didn't wait for his answer, only sat down once again and began. "When I left here, Snow was waiting for me at the new house. In no uncertain terms he basically told me that it was up to me to convince the world and him that Peeta and I were truly in love and inseparable. He threatened my family and everyone we held dear."

She finally chanced a look at Cato, whose face had lost some of the stone-like blankness and instead gave away his anger by the twitching muscles in one cheek. Sucking in a quick breath, she moved on with the story, detailing what they had all seen in District 11, at the party, and finally what she had seen at the Mayor's house. She felt spent by the end, shoulders hunching forward in defeat. All of this felt too much for her to stand. Was it only a year ago where her biggest concern was food and an emotionally absent mother? It felt odd to think of those troubles as insignificant now.

* * *

**Cato**

Cato listened to everything she had to say, taking in the changing news and the drastic turn in events that he hadn't even tried to predict in the most boring of moments alone. He watched as Katniss's shoulders fell as though the story had emptied out of her, leaving nothing but a shell behind. Here he was hearing about the manhunt going on for him, the uprisings already beginning, the threat against themselves and their families, and all he could do was stand and stare at this small woman who risked everything for what she believed in, even when she felt she was failing the world. He approached her slowly, his hand slipping to her shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze. He was about as accustomed to consoling females as he was to mining, which made his attempts clumsy at best. She didn't react to him and so he lowered himself in to her line of sight, witnessing the descent of several silent tears down her face.

His hand lifted to stroke them away, caressing over tear moistened softness of her cheek. Beneath his soothing exterior a viper lay concealed, coiling itself in preparation to strike. He just had no idea how to provoke the attack with the Capital, not one that wouldn't inevitably end with the destruction of any district that participated. Instead he decided to start with her, the one who was inciting the ones with the least hope to stand united against their common threat. For that, he felt the last vestiges of his anger floating from his body until his arms moved around her. She barely responded and leaned back to cup one hand against her face in response.

"Snap out of it. There's a chance now, we're not alone. Do you have any idea what all of this really means?" He watched as she shook her head, face crestfallen at her supposed faults. He grinned at her. "The districts are coming together just from seeing you, what you've done and how you've held your own against the Capital. Did you really think it would go so smoothly that no sacrifices would have to be made? This has been years in the making and today is the culmination of that. Stand proudly, honor those who have fallen by continuing their cause, they have given their lives for a new beginning. Are you going to let their sacrifices yield only mourning?"

She continued to stare at him, but he felt her shoulders beginning to straighten, her face firming in resolve, and his pride in her escalated.

"You are going to be the girl who burns all of this to the ground and emerges victorious. Own up to that." He whispered, his entreating eyes searching hers. Unlike before, she didn't shy away from it and he found himself unable to deter his innermost desires from latching on to his body. With a soft growl he moved his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her to him, meeting their lips in a savage kiss. The aggravating solitude of the past few weeks had grown into this merciless need and he satiated it with as much intensity as his body and hers would allow. She responded immediately and he pulled her from the chair, allowing their bodies to meld together until the heat began to build. Blood pounded hard and hot, coursing low in his body until it was all he could do simply to hold himself together rather than launching them to the floor.

She scratched the tips of her fingers down his back, eliciting a groan of appreciation from him. Suddenly he felt the pressure of her ring against the flesh of his back at the same moment the fear of what they were doing reached Katniss. One wrong move on their parts and the very thing she feared most could come to fruition: a child. There was no chance she could risk such a careless mistake. While Katniss considered this, Cato thought of Peeta, the engagement, and what all of that meant for Katniss in the eyes of the Capital's citizens. How far did they have to go to prove themselves for the cameras? With one last tug of his teeth around her lower lip, Cato released her, unable to stop the dead giveaway of his arousal and the lacking breath in his lungs. He turned from her and immediately left the cabin, heading straight for the lake that had begun to annoy the hell out of him.

He walked right into the water, stopping when it reached his chest and knowing a few feet further dropped off past where his head could stay above the surface. While he sucked in heavy gulps of air, he allowed the cold water to calm the boiling of his blood and the need driving sanity past where he could safely leave it unchecked. Her footfalls followed him outside and he turned his head enough to catch her figure walking to the edge and then in the water.

"Want to swim?" She asked softly, a hint of smoky huskiness still lingering in her voice. He ground his teeth at the baser instincts fighting for supremacy and shook his head.

"I don't know how to swim. Not much of a calling for it in my district." He turned away finally gaining control over himself bit by aching bit. "Besides, we have to talk, you and I. You have to tell me more about what you saw and then we have to figure out what this means. The kindling is lit, but the fire is far from started."

* * *

**It's time to break away just a little from the original. Not to fear, there are too many elements of this book I just have to keep in, but we shall come to that down the road. ;) **

**Thank you again for all of the sweet reviews, every single one of them makes me smile like a crazy idiot, no matter where I am!**


	13. Chapter 13

_"I used to think the past was dead and gone.  
But I was wrong, So wrong, Whatever makes you blind must make you strong.  
In my time I've melted into many forms.  
From the day that I was born.  
I know that there's no place to hide.  
Stuck between the burning shade and the fading light._"

Marcus Foster - "I Was Broken"

* * *

That night they disregarded the formalities of the past and went to bed together, Katniss nestled gently within his arms while he inhaled the scent of her hair and felt the healthy figure of her body against him. He was at peace, even if it was only for a little while. His dreams were something he would have mocked just a short year ago, for what kind of man dreamt of smiling faces, quiet moments by the lake, and softly whispered words in the dark? He awoke, wondering what kind of man he was to become. That was when he felt her movement: the short, controlled bursts of discomfort and fear. Another nightmare, another memory manifesting itself at the only time she could try to escape reality. Cato rolled slightly to the side, his warmth encircling her more fully as his good arm lifted to caress sweaty skin and push the strands of hair trapped against her face away. He brought his lips to her ear, quietly mumbling to her as he had begun to do every night they were together.

"It's okay, Katniss," he muttered the name he dared not say in the daylight. "You're not there anymore, there's no death here."

Within a minute she was calming again, falling still and shifting herself to press more fully against him. He ignored the burst of heat through his body and held her, closing his eyes to follow her into sleep. No further dreams disturbed either of them that night, good or bad.

In the morning he woke first, looking down at her peaceful face in the sun and grinning a fool's smile. With care he slipped from her embrace, moving the blanket over her to replace his warmth before grabbing her bow and arrow, a knife, and his boots. After going to the lake to splash the sleep from his face, Cato ventured into the woods. Over the weeks he had begun to explore deeper and deeper within the safe confines of the forest, listening to the cries of the animals before their silence admitted they knew of his presence. He still wasn't much of a hunter yet. His skills rested more in strength and the sword, precision shots were not something he had practiced often enough and it was rare that he had come across an animal that was large enough not to require careful yet rapid shots.

However, a lone squirrel had snuck out of its hidey-hole, missing the warning silence of its comrades. Cato fell gravely still, hands already poised with the bow. He aimed, staring at the creature as it rubbed small paws over its face as if it too required a bit of assistance waking up that morning. He let loose the arrow and watched in satisfaction as the thud of impacted flesh resounded before the heavier fall of its body. It took a moment to find the body, but the arrow proudly standing led him like a beacon to the creature still breathing painfully on the forest floor. Cato looked down at the squirrel as it almost gasped out, the arrow having hit through its neck. He knelt down next to the fragile animal, pulling the knife from his belt and swiftly dispensing death to the suffering being. Finally he would have a real breakfast that wasn't centered on fish, fish, and maybe a healthy side order of fish. If he continued on his diet of fish and roots he doubted he would maintain any of his muscle mass and had already noticed his body was quickly becoming far more lean than he was comfortable seeing.

He brought the squirrel back to the lake, sitting beside the water as he cleaned the meat, throwing the organs into the water for the fish. With the skinning finished, Cato went to go inside the cabin, only then noticing the door was swung open and no one was inside. Frowning, he looked around, but heard nothing and saw no movement except for the random swing of a branch as a bird took flight or landed. 'Now where the hell as she gone?' He thought, covering the meat with the removed fur and putting it into a pot with water to try and protect it from the elements. After he swung the bow over his back and trudged into the woods once again, this time headed for the district boundaries. He found signs of her; fresh foot prints and broken twigs hinted at her recent departure. He had barely begun to follow her when the sounds of raised voices became clearer and closer. He ducked away from the path and retreated.

Somehow he managed to make it all the way back to the cabin and around the back of it before the pair broke into the clearing. Katniss and another male, a dark haired one that could have almost passed as her brother, continued to passionately speak. He tried to push his hackles back down, but his primitive nature was impossible to defeat, especially when faced with a rival male. 'Rival?' He shook his head; he was getting in way too deep. The tumultuous tempo of the voices increased, demanding his undivided attention. He peeked through the window in time to see Gale extracting himself from Katniss' embrace and it was all he could do to keep the rumbling growl confined to his throat.

The conversation turned to a whole separate set of rivalry and Cato listened with interest as Gale demanded that Katniss choose between him and Peeta. He lifted an eyebrow; head tilted toward the window to better catch every word. Was there a single male in this district that wasn't wearing short pants or stooped with age that wasn't trying to win Katniss? And who was this Gale anyway? He didn't recall ever hearing of him, but there was something in the way that the pair interacted that made him want to beat his chest, which was a thought even he had to laugh at.

As Katniss told of what she had seen in District 11 and the uprising in District 8, he watched Gale's eyes light up with interest. Perhaps, despite it all, he and Gale could be allies in whatever war they were about to start, if he could just figure out how the hell to get the inferno blazing. Suddenly he froze, realizing that Gale's eyes had shifted and were upon him. That glow of hope had been replaced with cold, hard fury. Cato recognized that emotion and immediately, but calmly, stepped away from the window. He was fully prepared when Gale came shooting from the cabin to slam into him and the two rolled upon the ground, each strong from years of training or work and able to hold the other off. Katniss' alarmed cries reached them, but neither stopped to heed it. Though his muscles were well formed, Cato had better training and flipped the other, pinning him to the ground with a forearm to the throat and the sheer weight of his body.

Gale sputtered as some of his breath was cut off, but still he struggled, earning Cato's admiration, but not his mercy.

"Who are you and why are you here?" Gale managed to hoarsely whisper after a few more moments of fruitless attempts at pushing Cato off. Cato frowned, looking down at him in confusion before glancing up at Katniss. His face had been plastered on screens all over Panem and the Capitol, his actions in the games spotlighted often, how was it possible to not recognize him? His eyes asked the question while his lips remained pursed and shut. Katniss stared back at him in silence. Was that pity in her eyes? Cato hated the sight and looked back down to Gale, pushing a little more firmly into his throat as anger surged through him.

"Why I am here is none of your concern. You don't recognize me?" Cato gruffly asked, loosening his hold enough to give the now red faced man a few healthy gulps of air. Instead of answering, Gale shook his head, staring defiantly at Cato before shifting his gaze to Katniss. The two shared a look as Cato stared at Gale, noticing the moment the message had been conveyed and properly received.

"Cato? Katniss, are you stupid?" The outcry earned Gale another choked moment under Cato's fury. "So this is where you have been disappearing every day." Gale whispered painfully, though whether it was from disappointment or his bruised throat, Cato couldn't decide. "Sneaking off to take care of the enemy while I spend every waking moment of my life in those mines. What happened to you while you were gone?"

"I learned who the true enemies are, Gale. If that stupid notion in your head is ever going to work, you'll need to learn it too." She replied, startling Cato at how close she had gotten. Her hand rested on his shoulder. Without a word Cato released Gale and stood, stepping back from the pair to let them speak. But Gale, too hot-tempered, turned and left the woods with only a few angrily muttered words to Katniss that he could not catch. Whatever he had said, it had caused Katniss to stiffen in hurt as she watched him depart.

"Why cou—" Cato questioned as the crunching steps of Gale echoed off and silence followed.

"Don't worry about it. Any of it." Katniss cut him off with a raised hand and shake of her head. "I have to go talk to him, make him see reason. He can't mention you either." She shot a look to him and then moved to leave.

"You know me enough to know I won't settle for that." He was by her side immediately. She said nothing, just sighed at the stubbornness of men and continued. The pair reached the boundary in silence and ventured to the streets. Cato lifted the hood of his jacket over his face, curiosity eating away at him to understand why Gale hadn't recognized his face.

Odd sounds reached his ears and he stopped, attempting to decipher where he had heard that sound before. Hushed gasps and murmurings followed each time the strange noise echoed. The realization reached him the moment horror touched his eyes and he looked to Katniss, whose confusion remained evident on her own face.

"Let me see what's going on." Cato tried to stop her, knowing whoever was facing that whipping meant far more to her than they did him. She brushed him off, still not realizing what she was about to face. He stepped atop a crate, his height giving him great advantage to see Gale tied to a post, blood streaming from his motionless body. The man was gone to the world, but the Peacekeeper was continuing to exact his macabre version of justice from Gale's flesh. Cato pushed Katniss back, nearly causing her to tumble to the ground from his strength. He wasn't sorry, not when the other option was to see her friend torn open from the lick of leather. Instead of remaining back, Katniss fought through the ground. His teeth grit in frustration and fear, knowing he couldn't follow but wanting entirely to protect her from the sight in the square.

His warring brain failed him and he bore witness to her horror as she finally saw Gale. It was his turn to feel true fear as she ran to take his place. He jumped from the crate, moving to begin pushing through the crowd himself when raised voices stopped him and the Peacekeeper. Cato skulked back, feeling useless and worthless as Haymitch, Peeta, and the crowd diffused the situation with far more care and tact than he was about to exhibit. He did sneak up and helped to lift Gale's body from the ground, keeping his face carefully turned away as he helped carry the man to Katniss' new home. Too distraught to argue, Katniss let him, tears streaming down her face. It was only then he noticed the welt and tear of the flesh around one of her eyes, but he remained silent until they got to her house. He pulled her aside in to another room while the rest of the group fell into action. Cato's thumb stroked over her skin cautiously, not daring to get too close to the angry, red flesh bruising before his very eyes.

"I'm fine. Gale, he needs the help. I have to go to him." She didn't wait for his response, and he didn't fight her. He watched as she disappeared from the room before looking up: straight into the mirror hanging upon the wall.

It was then he understood all too well why he was able to slip through the grounds without detection. Scars overtook one shoulder entirely, they ribbon-ed up his neck and took over part of his face. His once unblemished skin was marred with purple and red marks. Though he had felt raised bumps on his skin, he had not realized the full extent of the scarring that had resulted from the mutation attack. He barely recognized himself either and was disgusted at the image staring back at him. His head lowered, blocking out the sight of his disfigured visage.

* * *

**I know, I know! This one is very rushed. It's more of a filler chapter to what's coming up, so I do apologize! Thank you for reading it anyway and stay tuned for the more fun stuff ahead. :)) Also, might I add that I am ridiculously excited that the Hunger Games app on Facebook is going into District 2 this week? No, I'm not affiliated with it, just way too psyched. **


	14. Chapter 14

_"She's waiting for the man to put some fire in her hand_  
_ You can see the fallen sadness in her smile_  
_ She's trying to find a road to choose_  
_ Wipes the blood right from her shoe_  
_ She thinks about the time she left her home _

_Same old dance_  
_ Same old fire_  
_ That makes it safe through the night_  
_ Just to feel that you are not alone"_

_- Marcus Foster - "Same Old Dance"  
_

* * *

Cato sat upon a small boulder by the side of the lake, the icy cold leeching the heat from his body as he studied the crude drawings in his notebook. In the weeks that he had been here he had not accomplished what he had hoped he would, but the solitude coupled with Gale's whipping had spurred him to action. Katniss had only visited him once since that day, relaying the change in the district that had caused the entire debacle. Snow was on to something, or perhaps he was taking extreme measures to ensure Katniss remained in line. Whatever the cause, Cato knew something was developing and it was up to them to take advantage of it, truly follow through.

It was for this reason that he sat outside in the biting chill, ignoring the puffs of air emitting from between his lips and the slight blue tinting of his fingers. The book open upon his lap revealed various structures that could provide shelter while also camouflaging activity. He had spent a large majority of his time studying animal's homes and havens, where they hid to stalk and hunt, where they escaped from those very same predators. Each creature had its own intricate way of surviving in the wild and Cato planned to steal some of their ideas. If District 13 was a cautionary tale for the rest of the districts, Cato knew that the slightest provocation could mean the leveling of an entire civilization of people, regardless of what supplies would become rare because of it.

He brought numbed hands to his lips, blowing hard into them in an attempt to provoke blood back into the pale tips of his fingers. His eyes remained leveled on a rabbit foraging in vain by the lakeside. The snow had overtaken days before and some animals had all but disappeared into their winter hibernations. Food was even scarcer for him now and he often listened to the rumbling of his stomach until even it gave up its quest for sustenance and fell into painful silence. Cato contemplated going after the rabbit, but knew his frozen, clumsy attempts would only yield the mocking sight of kicking legs disappearing into the sad remains of the foliage left behind amidst the graveyard of barren branches and twigs. Instead he satisfied himself by watching the animal searching for food and finding a few bites of clover frozen beneath the fluffy layer of white. It nibbled, eyeing him warily as it savored the small morsels it could find.

"Enjoy, you're not likely to find a whole hell of a lot of that stuff left around here." The rabbit twitched its nose at him in response, back legs lifting and lowering slightly, though whether it was to escape the frigid earth for a brief moment or prepare for its race away, he didn't know. He turned his attention back to the drawings, an array beginning with basic structures constructed from simple supplies found in the forest to elaborate structures that would require far more than he could simply dig up or carry. Underground was safest, offering both the ability to camouflage by land and by air, but took stabilizing structures to keep the earth from crumbling in on them, which was not something they could easily come by. The more basic was built from wood and covered in plants and dirt, which would easily hide them from the sky, but grounded Peacekeepers would easily spy and overtake them.

Several minutes passed as he eyed has work, stroking the pencil over the page to fix or scratch out modifications. He grunted and dropped the book into the snow, uncaring if some of the pages blotted out. He looked up for the rabbit, but his movements had chased the creature off and he was once again alone in the clearing. He didn't mind as much anymore, he didn't know if it was the habit of being alone or the moments spent planning that made it more bearable. Either way, he had begun to teach himself to craft with wood, though it was slightly more difficult with his lame arm that, despite his many efforts, continued to ignore his efforts at restoration.

Snow crunching caught his attention, freezing his body more effectively than the freezing temperatures. His head swiveled left and right, attempting to detect the location. With graceful speed he ducked behind the cabin, grabbing the bow and arrow he had crafted from wood and stone and hidden in a now mostly barren bush by the back. The steps came closer, tentative and struggling. Whoever it was, they were clumsy enough to announce their arrival to anyone and anything within a quarter mile of them. As they came into sight, he understood why. Two peacekeepers, one wounded, trudged into view. Cato lifted the bow, eyes set with deadly intent on the non-injured Peacekeeper. It would be much easier to take the able one out before going after the gimp one. However, as they approached Cato noticed the awkward way both moved, the boots flopping with each step as if completely ill-fitting, the wary way they surveyed their surroundings and halting of their movements upon sight of the cabin. The two deer-like Peacekeepers fell completely still, looking around rapidly.

It was then that he decided to experiment. He took an extra arrow and slid it between his teeth to keep it at the ready before aiming and releasing another arrow at the pair. It flew perfectly between them and lodged within the trunk only inches from the whole one's head. Twin feminine gasps of terror resounded and the injured one fell with a soft howl of pain. The other immediately lowered to cover her, searching for the source of the discharged weapon.

'Interesting, very interesting…' he thought, immediately recognizing these two were not Peacekeepers. He had seen them in training for countless hours and knew how each reacted; even the mostly cowardly of Peacekeepers kept their cool on the outside in order to ensure their knocking knees wouldn't be filmed for the Capitol's pleasure.

"Good afternoon, ladies," his sarcastic voice rang out, earning quickly turned gazes his way. "Care to explain just what the hell you're doing out here?"

Several hours later he had built a large fire in the cabin, caught two straggler fish from the frozen over lake, and assisted in crumbling pine needles to boil over the flames that they now all sat around.

"Are you sure this is right?" His nose wrinkled at the sight of the floating needles, sniffing and smelling nothing appetizing coming from the can.

"I saw a tribute do it once." The one called Twill responded, stroking a twig through the mixture, not looking terribly thrilled with the concoction either. Truth be told, he was as starving as they were. He was so fixated on trying to beat his head into a wall to make something productive come out that food had become something he sought after only when his body threatened to completely against him. He leaned back, his tongue stroking quickly over chapped lips.

"So what you're saying is District 13 isn't still a pile of useless rubble?" He turned to look at Twill as Bonnie sat in the corner, snow piled on her bad ankle.

"I don't know," Twill admitted reluctantly. "But what other choice do we have? Our district is being bombed, the citizens starved into obedience. We can either die finding something better or we can die like abused dogs begging their master for leniency. I would rather try and fail than sit in a pot waiting for the water to boil."

She stirred the water angrily, nearly sloshing some out and into the fire.

"Careful, I'm low on kindling, everything is soaked through." Cato admonished, looking outside at the snow covered landscape. "I'm going to see if I can find something a bit better than pine needles out there." He stood, brushing remnants of dried brush from his pants before heading back outside. A short while later and not much to show for his endeavors, Cato returned to the cabin in time to see Katniss lowering her bow from its deadly aim at Twill. He shook his head; pushing down the feeling those two were pushing their look at every turn. He doubted they would make it to their destination, but he understood exactly how they felt. To him it was the sign of a true coward that let themselves be punished repeadtedly and still begged for a smile and a scrap. Cato would rather grab the whip and get a single lash in then pay with his life rather than face a single day cowering in fear for survival.

He approached as the women went into the cabin, Katniss carrying a sack heavy with meat. Cato began to salivate at the thought of properly roasting meat, his stomach practically leaping from his abdomen to follow the sack to the fire. Sometimes he really, really kicked himself for ignoring survival technique classes. As he stepped inside, his eyes met Katniss' and lingered, allowing himself the pleasure of simply staring into the grey depths of her gaze before pink colored her cheeks and she turned away, listening to Twill and Bonnie as the two shared their stories once again. Cato busied himself preparing the meat, listening once again and trying to force himself into believing the two women's stories. Had District 13 truly survived? And could they really make it? Was it a real possibility for another civilization free of the Capitol to be growing and thriving?

As the night drew to a close, Cato walked with Katniss to the boundary. His hand sought and found hers, taking hold without looking away from the path. They walked in companionable silence, finding comfort in each other when words failed them. The district boundary grew closer and closer. Cato tugged on her hand, forcing her to a stop. He gazed down at her, thankful to see the whip mark healed and the fear gone from her eyes.

"Do you believe them?" He asked, his hand tilting to let his thumb stroke over her palm teasingly.

"I don't know. It seems almost too much. How could a district go unnoticed for this much time?"

"I doubt it has gone unnoticed. But perhaps there's much more to the story than simply a ravaged city. What if they somehow managed to separate and threaten their way into safety? The Capitol would have a damn good reason to keep that hidden if a district managed to scare them into allowing them to continue on uninhibited."

He allowed her to mull that over, watching the calculations and knowing each time it changed direction. She really needed to practice schooling her face more often; she was the most ridiculously readable woman he had ever met. Her teeth tugged on her lower lip, drawing his attention immediately. It was an invitation he didn't bother ignoring and soon lowered his head to capture her lips with his own. He had long since accepted his scars as battle wounds and he felt almost proud of them and they certainly weren't enough to keep him from going after what he wanted. His teeth tugged on her lip, replacing her own and sucking softly. She pressed herself against him as his hand slipped to her back, moving under her jacket to tug her closer. Slowly he broke the kiss, grazing his lips along her jawline and to her ear, letting his breath warm her ear before using the same technique on her earlobe as he had with her teeth. He felt her shudder from something other than the cold and grinned, his lips giving two soft kisses to her neck before parting from her. The glazed look in her eyes and parted lips begging for breath gave him a swell of male satisfaction and he turned them to finish the trek to the boundary, aching inside for more but for once feeling like it was worth more to wait than take.

He let go of her hand watching as she went toward the usual opening in the gate. An unusual buzz reached his ears, catching his attention from the tantalizing sight of her pants tugging tight from her movements. He listened for a moment before horror filled him. The fighter's instinct took over and his arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her quickly from the fence where the source of the static noise seemed to begin.

"The fence…" he growled out, bending to grab a fistful of snow. He tossed it at the fence, earning a sizzling sound as steam rose. "It's back on."

"Why do I get the feeling this is a trap for me?" Katniss responded, leaning toward the fence before trying to find a path under or through it.

"Because it is. How long has that fence been broken? Why fix it now?"

"Thread." Katniss scowled darkly and Cato fought a smile despite the dire circumstance. Looking like that, he could almost see her back in his district, putting Clove in her place. The thought of Clove resonated in his chest painfully, guilt still tearing at him over her death. He forced his focus back on the fence.

"Come on, we have to get you over that fence and back home before they figure out where you are. If they haven't already." Cato stepped back, looking around. "That tree, it's a hell of a fall, but if you land right you'll be fine."

Katniss followed his gaze to the tree, shaking her head.

"Are you crazy? I'll break a leg."

"You'll be find, suck it up." His lips tugged in a mocking grin before he picked her up and helped her climb to the branch. Inside his heart thudded rapidly as she inched slowly across and shot him one last fearful look before dropping. The impact was wrong and she grimaced immediately, causing him to come as close to the fence as he dared, nearly putting a hand up against it to get even closer.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she waved her hand up in dismissal before groaning softly and holding her ankle. "I've been better, but I'll be fine." She looked up at him, at the fence, then back at him.

"Go." He motioned away from him, watching as she slowly righted herself. He stepped into the darkness, but did not move away until she had painstakingly taken herself out of his sight. With insides churning he went back to the cabin where Twill and Bonnie lay resting before their journey continued.

* * *

Days passed before she returned again, slightly limping but showing more fear on her face than pain. They sat on either side of the fence, her filling him in on the changes in the district. He listened in utter silence, knowing the Capitol was closing in on all of them much more quickly than anticipated.

"I will begin hunting again. I'm not quite as good as you, especially with this thing…" he lifted his shoulder to emphasize his limp arm before continuing "but I should be able to snare some. Meet me here once a week and I will throw them to you, bring them to the citizens. I'll begin making weapons too, I've been teaching myself to carve." He grinned at the amazement in her face, feeling almost proud from the look. "I'll stockpile in preparation. Whatever they're planning, it will only take the tiniest trigger to set it off. We're sniffing at the trap and one touch will bring us all down." He looked around, his eyes constantly moving to catch sight of a Peacekeeper before one found them first. "I'll also figure out how to get you over that fence. I'm not nearly done with you yet." The animalistic look he sent her caused he cheeks to redden, something he enjoyed almost as much as the glow after he had kissed her.

* * *

The months began to pass. The snow melted, giving way to spring and thriving life. His skills increased, yielding a stock of weapons and plenty of kills for Katniss to take back to the starving in the district. More and more she began to stay, sitting across from him and telling him of her past, of her father and what the cabin had meant to her, more stories of growing up in 12. He, in turn, opened himself to her more, though his tales centered more on the grueling hours spent from an early age.

"The thing I hate the most about this sham engagement," Katniss threw a weed she had plucked from the ground in agitation "is that it has stolen from me the only privilege we truly have living in this district: the right to choose who we marry." She looked up at him, her fingers twisting into loops together. "I feel like Peeta and I are being robbed of that."

Katniss' eyes never wavered from his, giving him the first true glimpse into the desire he felt being mirrored in her grey depths. He sucked in a slow breath, his fingers itching to feel her soft skin against his again. Moments passed where the two only stared longingly at one another, the incessant buzz of the electricity almost drowned out by the kind generated between them. Neither moved, but neither needed to.

"It's not over yet. You're not allowed to give up until both of us are dead." Cato gruffly stated after he dislodged the lump in his throat with a heavy swallow. "You said yourself that Snow isn't impressed with what you two have done, why waste energy on it? The districts are in an upheaval… focus on that. Work the crowds until they have no other thought in their minds but tearing down the Capitol influence around them."

"It sounds so easy, doesn't it? You haven't seen the way everyone has avoided me in my own district. I'm a pariah here, why would they listen to me?"

"This isn't you, Katniss. The girl who held out the berries because she knew the Capitol's hands were tied, the girl who refused to stand by as people around her starved, the girl whose fire inflamed people around Panem to defy their prison wardens for the chance at a better life. You are not a dog who has been kicked to the ground so many times he doesn't know any different. You have this chance here and now to fight, are you going to give that up and hope for something better?" Cato finished his speech, staring fixedly at her, his gaze penetrating.

"You used my name." Was all she replied, her features twisted in surprise.

"Is that it?" He drawled impatiently, leaning forward. "Did you hear anything past that or am I going to have to take my chances with this fence to shake my words into you?" She laughed, some of the unease remaining in her face, but it was enough to hear that burst of happiness.

"I haven't given up. But I do have an idea." She turned to the bag that never seemed to disappear from her side. From within it she produced a long length of rope with a noose at one end. He raised an eyebrow at the hangman-like sight. "No, no! I have footholds tied in the rope, if I can catch it on a large enough branch I can climb up on to it and get over the fence."

"Now if only you put that much energy and thought into defying the Capitol." Cato smiled, excitement trilling through his body at the idea of her climbing over that fence for the first time in months. But today was not that day. "You have to get back, but the next time I see you… I expect it to be on my side of this fence. Maybe wearing a skirt?" His grin turned wolfish, earning him a rock tossed through the links of the fence, nearly hitting him in the face.

* * *

It was two days later while he sat by the fire in the cabin, piles of completed arrows at his side and eyes fixed on the dancing flames, that the sound of rushing footsteps reached his ears. Grabbed several arrows and his bow, Cato crept to the door and listened. The soft footfalls were definitely feminine and alarmed, skirting haphazardly over brush and branches, nearly losing their balance several times. He waited for her to show, only setting the weapons aside as she broke into the clearing alone and unharmed. Cato stepped out of the cabin to meet her, catching her in his arms as she ran full force at him. So surprised by her actions, Cato barely stopped them from tumbling over completely. He righted her, looking down into her face. Eyes wild with fear stared up at him, causing his heart to beat loudly in growing unease.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm going back in." The words were short, cut off by gasping sounds and barely discernible. He shook his head, unable to grasp what she was saying.

"The Quarter Quell… A male and female tribute that survived the games has to go back in and compete again." Her voice caught as she neared hysterics. "There's only one female survivor still alive." With that she gave in, tears falling rapidly as silent sobs shook her entire body. Cato stood in silence, the words slowly digesting and curdling within his stomach. She was going back into the arena, and this time it wouldn't be against a group of unseasoned children barely able to hold a knife, let alone use it. This time she would be pitted against people who had survived because of their cunning, strength, and precision. And he would not be there to protect her. His arms encircled her, squeezing her shaking form against his, face burying within her hair. Anger, fear, sorrow… it all coiled within his body, creating devastation in its wake and leaving him trembling along with her. Years of training, of wielding weapons and preparing for his time in the spotlight, could not come anywhere close to preparing him for this moment when the woman he had come to love would be fighting for her life for the enjoyment of others for the second time and him uselessly watching a world away.

She leaned away from him, staring at the once limp arm that was now shaking around her shoulder. His own surprised gaze turned to it before he looked back at her, uncaring of his suddenly working limb. Her hands slid up his neck and cradled his face; he pulled her back to him and brought his mouth to hers, animalistic need drowning out reason as they sought comfort in each other in the only way that seemed rational at that moment. They shared breath, tongues stroking together and bodies fighting to meld into one. He lifted her, one hand slipping beneath her thigh to coax it around his hips before carrying her into the cabin and to the bed by the fire. It was clichéd, but it was perfect. He lay her down along it, watching the flames glowing in her hair and eyes as she stared breathlessly up at him. He ducked back down again, unwilling to separate from her long enough to feel the chill of the night against his flesh.

His hands stroked along her waist, capturing the heaviness of her breast in his hands and toying with her sensitive peaks until she gasped in impatient joy. Her own were working over the muscles of his abdomen, unsure of whether to travel north or south. It wasn't until her tentative search drifted downward that he lost all ability to breathe at all, and along with it any self-control that had kept him sane over the months. In record time he was stripped and her along with him, joining his body with hers carefully. She fought to keep the pain of their union from showing, but her felt the tensing in her legs and forced himself still until she was prepared for him again. Their bodies drifted and tensed, fitting together and trembling with need.

When it was over and the flames had died, leaving only glowing embers in the hearth, Cato lay staring at the ceiling and holding Katniss as she slept. Gone was the heartless animal that had prayed for his moment to slaughter the lambs of Panem and left in its wake was the man who would tear the Capitol apart and dance in the ashes of its decay for causing the sick, trembling that was barely contained as he wondered if he would ever hold her again.

* * *

**Hoping this one made up for the last one! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

"_The forest always kept us warm  
But it doesn't feel like home anymore  
And I know there's bigger mountains where you are  
And a better climate for my heart_

_I've been racing the clock and I've run out of steam_  
_I am ready for my final symphony_  
_Oh, my body is weak but my soul is still strong_  
_I am ready to rest in your arms"_

Athlete – "Black Swan Song"

* * *

Cato came to consciousness slowly, reveling in the contentment flooding through his veins. His body felt languid from satisfaction until his mind caught up with reality and the previous night came crashing down upon him. A slight trembling fully brought him into the light of day and his eyes opened to peer down at the girl shaking in his arms. Silent tears swept their way down her skin as eyes squeezed shut in fear hid her depths from him. Cato turned slightly, cradling her more fully in his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head. He let her cry without saying a word, knowing anything spoken to her now would either fuel the flames of her sorrow or slip through her brain and wisp out like a ghost. As she wound down and the tears fell more sluggishly, he slipped a finger under her chin to tilt her head back. Immediately her eyes opened, gazing up at him, paler from her dread.

"You're going to make it out again, Katniss." Cato declared, his eyes expressing the need he felt behind those words while his heart warred with the apprehensive thought that she had a very real chance of dying in the arena. "They are going to be doing everything in their power to ensure that doesn't happen, but you're stronger than they are where it matters."

"Cato, I got lucky the first time because I was able to play with the Capitol's need for a show. That's it. I got lucky." She reiterated, looking on the brink of another brief meltdown. Cato squeezed her more tightly, briskly shaking his head.

"You will get killed if you do not play into your own strength." He ignored her wince, forcing her to keep paying attention to his words. "You are strong, stronger than any woman I have ever known… Women in District 2 are calculating, cold. They are bred for killing or to create killers. Because of this they can't do the one thing that you can… provoke others to help them." Her mouth opened to protest again and he stifled her voice with a gentle cradling of his hand over her mouth. "No, Katniss. The time for fear is over. You managed it once, and you will do it again. You did it with Rue," another wince, "Peeta, and even the Capitol citizens themselves. You need to do that again. I need you to do that again. There are no other options; you will make it out of that arena alive."

"… How?"

"First you will strengthen your body, it's the greatest weapon you'll always have. Keep it prepared. But more importantly by not giving up, ever. Even when it looks as though you'll never make it out, remember what you're fighting for and you'll find what you need." He stroked his fingers over her skin, brushing away the remnants of her tears away. "And don't forget one simple thing… the Capitol may love a good show, but they are also extremely fickle. Keep their attention; make them angry for you, in love with you, and wanting nothing more than revenge for what has been done to you."

She nodded up at him, attempting a smile that never fully reached her eyes. He lowered his head again to rest upon her hair, gently moving his jaw to feel the soft tresses caressing the sensitive flesh of his neck. A soft sigh emitted from his lips, an involuntary noise of pleasure reminiscent of a purring cat. He felt the curving of her lips against his shoulder and slowly grinned himself, a twinge of anxiety making the grin almost a little mad. Her fingers slipped over his chest; tracing patterns and images only she could see, leaving his flesh begging for more of her touch. Wanting the moment to last, Cato lay still and let her explore, knowing a single movement from him could be enough to tip her into shuffling away. His eyes stared at the ceiling, gathering every vestige of self-control he had in himself.

When at last he felt he would be forced to halt her hands, he felt the heavy breath of her whispering his name into the crook where his neck met shoulder, and that was all it took. His hand tilted her head to get the angle he desired to meet her lips with the hunger he could not yet express in words. His lips rejoiced at the contact and one hand fisted in her hair, holding her to him so she could not escape, though no movement from her hinted at any desire to flee. His other hand stroked along the curve of her hip, satisfying the craving to memorize every inch, dip, and fluctuation. Soon his head lifted, eyes lowering to feast with his eyes as much as he had allowed his hands, not having been given the luxury of seeing her body in the firelight of the night previous. He failed at concealing a groan of pleasure and was rewarded with her fingers moving back to his body as she satisfied her own feminine curiosity of him. Again he begged for mercy from this torment while also shifting himself closer to allow her better access.

When at last they were again spent and shivering in each other's arms, Cato trailed gentle, lingering kisses along her neck and shoulders, barely able to find the strength or will to roll from the comfort her body provided as they lay in contemplative silence.

"Katniss, I want you to remember how you feel now, how it will feel to say goodbye to Prim, how your mother was when your father died, how it will be for them if you die. I want you to see all of this in your mind and harness that emotion so, when your darkest hour arises, you will know exactly what you need to do to win this. Defeat happens first in you." He turned to press his lips to hers a final time before helping her to stand. They took a leisurely swim, which was more him standing in the more shallow end and admiring her form as she slipped through the placid lake. When their time together was over he helped her dress if only to feel her skin beneath his rough hands one last time, to imprint the feel of her into his flesh as if he, too, could conjure it up later when the terrifying nights of her battle would cut into his sanity bit by bit.

He walked her to the fence, whispering encouragements and demands the entire time, enforcing her strength and allowing for no further tears. He imparted on her the best of his training that he was able; knowing now was not the time for emotional outbursts, if ever there would be a time for such things. As he watched her climb up the tree and down the rope on the other side of the electrified fence separating their lives, he forced his mind to blankness, hoping the stone like exterior would encourage her to ignore the need for terror. It was not until much later, when he was in the cabin alone, that he vented his rage with a battle cry that shook the birds from their perches nearby. And as he slid down the wall, falling into a seated position, he gave in to the overwhelming need to vent his panic in tears. The one touted as the great warrior from District 2 bent his head into his hands and wept with shaking shoulders and choked cries of anguish.

* * *

It was days later when the tributes had been collected and whisked away for their limelight exposures, preparations, and eventual battle, Cato gave in to impulse to go into the district. He had spent the last several days burning energy on powering his body and preparing weapons. A mass of spears, bows, arrows wrapped in vines, and knives crafted from stone lay in piles in one half of the cabin. On the table lay stacks of bags crafted from the furs of animals he had consumed. With so much amassed in the little space, Cato would not work up the desire to continue crafting the tools when it felt almost like a useless endeavor. Thus the idea to venture forth in to town was born, and it took little coaxing to finally force the idea into fruition.

He came to the fence, hearing the familiar buzz of the energy pouring through the coils that had kept him from Katniss for all those months. He peered around and squinted, seeing an object coiled around the branch she had finally used to climb over. It was the rope, still ready and prepared for the day when she would return and clamor into the woods once again. But she had always kept that rope with her, never daring to leave it within sight of nosy Peacekeepers. Was this her way of showing her doubt that she would return? Was she giving him his escape and saying her goodbye with that simple but symbolic gesture? He scowled briefly before climbing the tree, hoping his bulk would not fail him again the last time he tried to follow her far more nimble figure up through branches. It took a few minutes and several heart-stopping cracking of tree parts before he finally landed on the other side. Unlike her, he refused to leave it behind and tucked the rope around his waist before moving on.

Inside the district there was far less activity going on than usual and his hackles raised immediately. He kept closer to the shadows formed by the decrepit buildings, making his way to Katniss' home in Victor Village with as much care to keep attention from himself as possible. When he got there it was another inward battle as to whether simply to sneak in or knock on the door. Were there Peacekeepers within to keep order in her home or was her family left alone to grieve? He could only hope for the latter as his fist lifted to tap lightly on the door. A young girl answered, her hair twisted into the braids of a child. Her face, however, spoke a story of an age far surpassing what she must have been.

"Prim," he acknowledged, bowing his head slightly. She looked almost like she wanted to be afraid, but instead bowed her head in return before quickly ushering him inside.

"We wondered if you would show up. Katniss warned you might, being too stubborn to stay where it's safe and all." She smiled gently, inwardly nodding at her sister's ability to see into people far better than she cared to admit. "Are you hungry?"

"Has it begun yet?" He ignored her question, finding the thought of food enough to begin turning his stomach.

"No, not yet." She answered with a shake of her head. "They're still parading them about as if it's all in good fun." Her head turned as she surveyed the empty hall behind her. "Mom is still treating someone right now, but we can watch, if you'd like."

Indecision etched into his face before he acquiesced with a curt nodding of his head, following her into another room lavishly furnished with Capitol goods meant for showing off. He sat down on the couch, wincing at the discomfort of the furniture. They really seemed to make things for sight rather than feel, much like the people there. He turned his attention to the screen and noticed it was the day for interviews. Just how long had it been since she had left? Though time seemed to pass at such a sluggish pace he assumed only a few days had passed in his misery, but much more must have for it to be so late in the ceremonies. Prim said nothing and he couldn't help but wonder about how all the events in her life must have shaped her into a mature female when she should still have been outside prancing about and giggling behind hands with friends.

Suddenly Katniss was on the stage and his attention was riveted. An arrow to his head could not have turned his stare away from that screen right now. She looked stunning in a white dress that was obviously meant for a marriage. A flicker of her standing before him in that overtook his concentration before it flitted away with the dreams he had once had of a simple life before his official trainings had begun. She captured the audience as easily as she had the first time she had been forced to parade before them, except this time their rowdiness could almost be mistaken for an outcry. Then she was standing, her arms lifting as she moved into a twirl. He expected fire to consume her, but was not prepared when the dress seemed to burn away from her body, leaving the most beautiful costume behind he had ever seen until he realized what it was. His insides went cold. Whoever was stupid enough to put her in that had to have known the consequences of such a move could only bring more peril on all the tributes, especially with their cold words mincing the government into pieces already.

"She looks so beautiful." Prim breathed next to him, a slight catch to her voice hinting at the sadness his own heart mimicked with its inconsistent beat. All too soon she was gone from the stage, replaced by Peeta who, once again, held the entire audience and Caesar Flickerman in his hands as easily as the bread he handled every day. Even Cato had to admit that the man could talk a hungry wolf into giving up its meal or a fish into jumping from water. That didn't stop the jealous rivalry for surfacing within him anyway.

He was about to turn away when Peeta's words caught up to him and rigidity overtook every muscle in his body. Horror struck eyes turned to the screen as Prim whispered beside him "Pregnant?"

* * *

**I wanted to go so much further in this story but everything ran away from me and I am out of time! I will definitely get the next chapter out very, very soon. So sorry for the wait! Again, I must thank all of you loyal readers for sticking by me. You are the reason I always feel so motivated to write, all of your lovely reviews and shares make this an utter pleasure for me. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, I appreciate them more than I could possibly say!**


	16. Chapter 16

_Pull the blindfold down_  
_So your eyes can't see_  
_Now run as fast as you can_  
_Through this field of trees_

_Say goodbye to everyone you have ever known_  
_You are not gonna see them ever again_  
_I can't shake this feeling I've got_  
_My dirty hands_  
_Have I been in the wars?_

__Editors - Smokers Outside the Hospital Doors

* * *

Cato left the house shortly after the shocking announcement, feigning a calm exterior while his insides went through tortured calculations. He didn't know much about pregnancy, but it had to be too soon to know, wasn't it? One or two weeks would not be long enough… he kept reminding himself of this. It had to be some kind of ploy. But if it wasn't, what could they possibly do? Suddenly their irresponsible love-making weighed down heavily on him, even as cherished memories flooded his body with heat.

He found himself walking through the town aimlessly, his head down and the hood he always wore shielding his stark eyes from sight. Even if the news was fabricated, it was still enough to provoke a reaction in him strong enough to make him question the entire world and their place in it. More specifically, this was not one with a future. He had never really thought about having children, it was something for the future when he had won The Games and his life was free from the constant training required of him. The mines were not open, but the streets were still vacant of most residents. The dread of the Quarter Quell manifested itself in every aspect of life here and everyone mourned the loss of their newly returned tributes.

Cato spied Gale sitting alone in the square where he had been beaten a lifetime ago. His figure was defeated with shoulders slumped and elbows rested upon his knees. Cato sat next to him, not speaking despite the instant stiffening of the other. Gale's eyes roamed suspiciously to him, lip curling in distaste before looking away again. Cato leaned back, forcing a relaxed pose with legs slightly parted and arms crossing, but inside every fiber of his being was preparing for a strike from the man with the wounded pride.

"Gale, this is probably the last idea you would ever want to entertain. But I think it's about time we come to an understanding. You and I have some work to do."

His gaze turned in time to catch the flash of curiosity cross Gale's face before he attempted to school his expression. He failed as his face was an open book just like Katniss', but Cato was not interested in feigned indifference. He needed an ally; and right now, Gale was all he had.

* * *

Time passed as it always did and always would, in a series of meetings, plans, and impatient thoughts. The two men met late at night when all others had lulled themselves into fearful sleep for the night. They argued quietly, each finding their solutions to be superior, but ultimately the two had come to a begrudged truce. If the teasing barbs they traded were any indication, a friendship was almost being forged between the two stubborn individuals.

"If Katniss makes it out of there alive, they're going to find another way to take her out." Gale reminded Cato, leaned back in his chair with rigid tension apparent in his movements.

"When she gets out," Cato responded venomously "they are most likely going to try to break her first. I would guess that her family would be the targets first, then move on to friends if she hasn't become compliant then."

"So how do we get them out then?" Gale drummed his fingers on the table between them, contemplation overtaking his attention. "Katniss and I always talked about escaping into the woods. Sometimes I actually thought she was serious." Gale blinked a few times, forcing himself back into the present.

"I have tools, weapons, and a few other necessities stocked up in the cabin out there." Cato declared, moving his forearms on to the table and leaning forward as ideas came to him. "What if we get them out while the Capitol is distracted with the end of the Quell? Everyone will be waiting in those last few minutes, even Snow. They won't notice anyone's movements until after we're gone."

"True," Gale admitted, trepidation slowing his response. "But I'm not sure it will be enough to get us out safely. The Peacekeepers are more invested in not becoming Avox's than finding out who survived the latest Games."

"If we are prepared, swift, and brook no hesitation… we can make it out."

They went back and forth, never coming up with a decision. Night after night was spent this way, thankful for the use of Katniss' old home for their meetings. In the day Cato stayed with prim and Mrs. Everdeen, pretending to be a patient wounded from an explosion who had been stricken with infection. He would watch the Quell with sickness in his stomach, every close call making his gut twist painfully. Yet every time Katniss pulled through, stronger than ever, his admiration for her grew. There was a warrior growing inside of her, feeding on every moment she had to fight against an enemy that seemed impossible to defeat. She would have been revered in his District, the obvious choice to fight in the Games, the one who would go in by his side and pick through the others like they animals for the picking.

Then, the end of the Quell was beginning to draw closer. Cato watched the tributes with interest as they moved about in a seemingly choreographed way. There was something about to happen that went far past the standard battle and a bottle breaking over his head couldn't break his concentration now. All hell broke loose in the Games. Amidst the chaos, Katniss attacked… nothing? Before he could truly comprehend what she had done… everything went black. Cato's eyes struggled to adjust after the darkness enveloped everything. His ears strained to hear for the cause, but silence reigned supreme.

"Prim, you okay?"

"I'm fine. I wonder what happened; normally we have some sort of backup power so that the mines are never left without it and these homes are run through the same type of source."

Cato froze from the inside out, goose-bumps rolling up his body as faint outlines of furniture came into focus.

"Prim, get your mother, and quickly. Grab the suitcases I had you pack and don't ask me any damn questions. I will be right back." He fled from the room as quickly as his half blind eyes would allow, still managing to stub his toe on every surface he tried to work around. As he made it outside the moon offered faint, but blessed light, and Cato rushed to Gale's house to find the family emerging with their carefully packed bags.

"Great minds." Cato said simply, nodding in appreciation of the other's swift thinking. "Has this ever happened before?"

"Never." Gale's mother shook her head as slight tremors gave her fear away, but she remained tall and straight as a pillar, maintaining a calm enough of an exterior to not incite panic in her children. "It seemed a rather opportune time for it as well."

Cato looked around, noting several residents emerging from their homes to converse with one another, confuse and anxiety filling the air as surely as the rising conversations. As Cato quickly studied their surroundings, a sudden realization filled him with a dread of which he had never experienced in his life.

"Gale, there aren't any Peacekeepers. There's not a single damn official in sight despite the mayhem that could happen right now." Gale's body went rigid and he peered around, frantically searching for any sign of someone who would attempt order when the district could so easily wreak havoc. In unison they looked at each other. "This isn't about the families at all. They're going to turn this entire District into an example."

"I'm going to the boundary now. I'll get every person within hearing distance to come with me and we'll tear down the fence and head to the cabin." Gale snatched his dropped bags from the ground, ushering his family to begin moving with curt words and gentle pushes, he looked back at Cato.

"I'll get Katniss' family and stragglers out. I have no idea how much time we have, but I doubt they're going to give us much time to think before they act. In other words, get your ass in gear."

Cato turned away, immediately heading back to Victor's Village where Prim and Mrs. Everdeen stood with their full bags. Cato explained as quickly as he was able, offering no chance for questions or concerns before he had them moving in the direction of the boundary. He watched until their silhouettes disappeared from sight amidst the glow of the many lanterns and candles that had appeared. Then he moved to begin banging on doors, doing more harm than good as suspicious families shrank away from his sudden appearance, not trusting despite the odd circumstances. His was a stranger's face and with all of the new officials in town, they assumed only a trick could lead him to their doors. Some families thankfully listened and hurried away, following his instructions and the clusters of others making their way to where he hoped the fence had been knocked away.

It was when he was only halfway through the town that the first Capitol aircraft appeared. As though he was watching a movie, Cato spotted the object falling and watched its descent without moving. It fell out of his sight and, for a moment, he almost believed what they were dropping wasn't dangerous. Before the thought had finalized in his mind he felt himself being lifted and tossed as fire erupted, reaching for the sky as the ground beneath him heaved and revolted against the blast. At the same time as the pressure shoved his body he heard the first explosion and then the second. From his back he watched as a plume of smoke grew above them, twirling and gathering into a thick, grey stalk that reached toward the heavens before spreading like a carpet throughout the sky. Soon the moon was obstructed from sight, leaving only the dancing flames growing in intensity to light the way of the suddenly frantic crowds below. Another cracking boom thundered, blocking out the piercing screams momentarily and adding to the suffocating smoke above.

Sounds of agony and fear erupted in the wake of the silence that followed the last bomb. Cato quickly gathered his bearings and forced his legs to endure the weight of his disoriented body. One ear throbbed painfully, the uproar from the townspeople sounding as though it was forcing its way through the thickest of cotton to enter his ear. The other tried to overcompensate and the wails screwed his face into a wince at the din assaulting his hearing. Another bomb fell, the ground beneath him shook and more screams erupted. Cato closed his eyes, hands fisting at his sides as he breathed in deeply several times. Each exhale was another piece of anxiety leaving his body until he had successfully fought the panic rising from within. Slowly his eyes opened, revealing blue orbs filled only with determination and perseverance.

He rushed along the paths that led him around where most of the remaining homes were accumulated. Terrified people moved about like zombies or shoved their way past others, all adding to the chaotic atmosphere that would kill them all. Those paralyzed by fear earned rapid shakes from him and harshly spoken words until they blinked, awareness crawling back into their gaze as he shouted orders. Soon some semblance of action was taking place, but as each bomb fell and destroyed another section of town, reason fled more and more. It did not help that bodies littered the streets; faces of men, women, and children lay prone upon the ground, glassy eyes staring at the sky, features twisted in shock or alarm. Some loved ones remained with the bodies of the lost, crying out in mourning as they rocked the empty shells of their family and friends who were beyond feeling comfort at their touch. He refused to look at the dead for longer than a passing instant; knowing it only took away from the living and their chance at survival. Screams of anguish erupted from the many suffering injuries and all too often Cato had to ignore the tortured pleas of those beyond saving, turning away from their begging hands and eyes filled with tears. District 12 had become its own version of Hell, far surpassing the resident's previous views of what Hell had been.

All around the fires grew in intensity, blasting out heat that could be felt no matter where one hid. The coal dust that had seemed to permeate every surface of the town now acted like a catalyst for its destruction, encouraging the flames to grow hotter and faster until more buildings were left ablaze than untouched. Suddenly two small hands grabbed one of his arms and he forced down the immediate reaction to shove the offending touch away. He looked down at the terrified face of a young woman covered in soot with a burn marring one cheek.

"Please, help." She pleaded, tugging on his arm before releasing to point in the direction of a house partially engulfed by fire. Cato followed swiftly, hearing the agonized screams of a mother being held back from the threshold of the home. The screams of children came from within, mirroring the call of their mother's frantic cries. He ran to the doorway, listening briefly for the direction of the children's shouting before flinging himself into the building. Smoke impeded his vision, heat assaulted his skin, but he forced himself to focus on the bawling children above. One was found easily, crouched in the corner, frozen immobile by the flames flickering around him. Cato's large size easily leapt the fire, taking care to avoid places where the scorched wood might give way. He hefted the child into his arms, choking on the thin air as his lungs took in more and more of the scorching smoke and each blink felt like sandpaper lined his eyelids. He made his way downstairs and outside, inhaling deeply of the slightly fresher air before depositing the child into his mother's arms. A man limped toward him, his head bowing before he kissed his fingers and raised a hand in salute to him.

"Our savior" The man spoke, gasping from his own overworked lungs. Cato gave a quick nod before turning and rushing back into the house, the shrieks of the second child far more faint than they had been mere seconds before. The groans of the house began to collide with the crackling of the burning wood, rising to overwhelm his sense and sever the audio ties he had had with the child. Blindly he stumbled through the room in which he had found the first kid, seeking for some sign of where the other might be. He heard the whimpering weeping before he finally found him. Where the first had been surrounded by a superficial circle of fire, this child was caught behind a tall wall of flames that licked the ceiling brutally, scorching from the bottom up. Cato moved as cautiously as his quickness would allow, but it was too late. In terror he watched as the weakened beams above gave in to gravity, breaking and falling to hit the floor around the child crumpled in fright. Fiery debris rained on him until the groaning floor would bear the weight no longer and the tiny curled body disappeared, his scream echoing before a thud was followed by silence. Cato fell to his knees, straining to hear anything other than the disintegrating wood. His hands fisted in his hair, pulling painfully as he doubled over, straining to clear his mind of the terror widened eyes of the child before he fell through the floor.

Cato pushed himself back up, stumbling through the room toward the stairs, unable to give in to the need to release the agony ripping through his mind. As he reached them, his body gave up in weakness, causing him to stumble before jerking forward. His back hit first, jarring his teeth together and into his lower lip. Blood exploded in his mouth before he continued his tumble to the floor below. Near the bottom he felt the crack of his head against the tip of one stair before blackness overtook him and his body came to a halt at the bottom.


	17. Chapter 17

"Y_ou say that I'm running out of time_

_I don't know which way to climb_

_But I can tell by your tears it's been so many years since we started this crying_

_Since the day since we started this crying_

_You say there's no return_

_But our hearts were made for us to yearn_

_So I'm cold, and they take_

_Four parts start to break_

_And leave me standing there with nothing left to burn_

_Leave me standing there with nothing left to burn_"

Marcus Foster - "In This Town"

* * *

Cato awoke to several small hands wrapped around his arms, tugging with as much force as they could muster. His heavy body inched along the ground, scraping and thudding painfully on what seemed like every dip and debris in the vicinity. Sucking in a mouthful of rancid air, Cato rasped out for them to stop, the rolling agony stringing along his nerves from his shoulders threatening to pop from their socket once again.

"We can't! It's going to fall!" A tiny voice cried out, renewing the effort to pull him free of the structure. Another rocking of his body jarred his healed shoulder and he felt the faintest grinding of protest in his body. "Please mister, we don't have time!"

With as much effort as he could manage, Cato opened his stinging eyes, gazing up at the faces of the girl he had followed to the burning house and the mother of the child he had managed to save. They stared down at him with hurried anxiety, their faces covered in soot, sweat, and tears as they pulled his body in tiny increments. Behind him he heard an ominous creaking growing in intensity, the final warning he would be given.

"Okay, let me go." He ordered, nearly sighing in relief as the pressure on his shoulders was relieved and his arms allowed to fall to the ground. Another fortifying breath was taken, one that nearly caused him to fall into a coughing fit, and then he was rolling over to push himself from the ground. All around him the symphony of failing structures echoed, encouraging him to expedite his movements even as his body begged for mercy. With several groans of effort and perseverance, Cato was standing. His mouth was filled with thick, rusty blood that he promptly spit to the ground before probing the cut with his tongue. His head swam merely from standing, forcing him to remain still a moment before he could work his limbs into vacating the house, the gathered group around the house instantly following suit as they moved away.

The building gave a death moan as the weakened foundation of its body gave in to the pressure of its heavy structure. Glass shattered as beams failed, walls crumbled, and floors broke into pieces. Soon rubble was all that remained as it crashed to the ground, blasting all who were near with ash-filled, heated air. Eyes were shielded, backs turned, and several sobs were heard as the defeated home lay burning in a heap. Another blast was heard and the earth beneath their feet trembled. Cato ignored the fearful cry of one of their group members, turning to survey the damage that had been done while he was out.

"We have to get off the streets. The more movement they see, the more they'll keep bombing." Everywhere he looked fire licked at the sky, releasing thick bursts of smoke to choke everyone below, even those used to the cramped closeness of the mines. There was one place he noticed lacked the inferno that had taken over the town: Victor's Village. "I'll give you the option of following me or not, it's your choice." His words were simple; his eyes pointedly direct: follow me and potentially survive or follow your own way and risk the Capitol's fate for you.

It only took a few minutes, but the suffocating air and barely tolerable heat made every step an effort worthy of his hardest days of training. Ahead Victor's Village loomed untouched, dark yet beckoning for them to come forward. He ignored Katniss' home, knowing it would be the least safe. He headed far away from it to one of the homes he knew had never been occupied. It took only a miniscule amount of effort to break in and cautiously he entered, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light with ease and almost relief. Inside the building was dead to noise and movement with only the most bare of furnishings scattered about for use. He gestured for the group to follow him inside as he went to investigate the supplies they would have to get them through the night. Towels, soap, and sheets were readily available but not a single speck of food could be found. He went to the kitchen sink and turned it on, shaking his head as the water fell out in half streams.

"A pipe is broken somewhere. Don't drink the water, it's not safe. If you don't have any injuries you can clean yourselves up, but if you're burned or cut do not touch anything from the pipes." The survivors stood in one room, those lucky enough to have surviving loved ones were clinging to each other for strength while those suffering losses stood in grief-stricken silence. Cato refused to give in to the need for a reprieve and instead focused his energies on providing the necessities they would need to keep their numbers from dwindling further. Although he could barely survive when it came to hunting, some basics had been instilled in him by his father during their rare bonding moments. Somehow he managed to scrounge up several bags of sand from the basement of the house, though he could not fathom why they would be there. He also found an empty barrel, cheese cloth, but no carbon to purify.

As the others set about giving themselves the comfort of bathing, Cato remained in the basement straining water through the sand and cheesecloth to root out sediments before bringing a bucket up at a time to boil on the stove, hoping it would be enough. By the time a few gallons had been handled he was too exhausted to continue his efforts and fell asleep at the kitchen table, slumped over and filthy.

The morning light crept in; reluctantly awakening him and pulling him back into reality and away from the dream of soft arms and bedroom eyes. Throbbing pain spread from the bump on the back of his head, his eyes crusted from the ash of the burning homes, and his entire body ached from the many efforts of the night before. Around him some still slumbered, others sat in stunned silence, some continued to weep into their hands or in the arms of others. Cato remained silence, his parched throat begging for the relief water could bring and his stomach angrily clenching from being ignored. Determination alone motivated him to stand from the table, several popping sensations in his body alluding to the folly of sleeping in the chair. To those who were awake he served some of the water, only shaking his head when they inquired about food.

"Some of us can go out and scrounge the village for food, but until then everyone will have to make do with water." The disappointment etched on so many faces combined with the mutinous scowls on others set his nerves on edge. He turned and walked from the room, disappearing within the empty safety of the basement. Every scream of the suffering, every falling building, and every face staring up with eyes devoid of life filled his head, building in intensity until he was crouched over and struggling to breathe. He allowed himself this brief moment to release all that had been building inside, an overflow of emotions he had never been trained to handle. Once the suffocating sensation left his throat he moved to the floor to work the rest of the energy from his body the best way he knew how.

When his spent muscles protested and his burning lungs refused the admittance of air, Cato finally went back upstairs to set up the search party for food. Three teams of three were created, each group assigned to one of the victor's homes. Each was given an empty grain sack and crate to fill. They set out into the streets, careful to remain out of open spaces despite the relative quiet from the previous day. Cato's group moved to Katniss' home, looking toward the main section of town to see bodies littering the streets. Already scavengers had begun to prowl in, circling the prone bodies with interest. He looked away, having no way to stop the creatures from satiating themselves on the deceased. Minutes later they were inside Katniss' house, him steering them toward the kitchen and away from overly personal areas. There was food aplenty, some already rotting from being left with no electricity, but most salvageable. They loaded their containers and went to head out before Cato rushed to where Mrs. Everdeen had kept some of her supplies in order to take any medicines she might have left behind.

When the group reconvened they gathered their piles which, at the time, had seemed plentiful. Now faced with the entire group's hungry faces and the reality of what they had grabbed… Cato was reluctant to feel any relief. Their trials were far from over.

* * *

The next several days were a true test for the entire group. No pain killers left the wounded writhing, moaning where they were able to find a spot to lie. Low levels of food kept rationing to a careful level and the limited space left all of them feeling the pinch of forced conversation when all most wanted to do was silently contemplate the drastic turn their lives had taken. Cato had gone around the house several times, counting at least 30 members in their group to keep alive. By now he knew it would be safe for everyone to leave the house and hopefully Gale had established a safe zone in the woods for everyone to settle. He estimated the number of people that had followed him from town before Hell had broken loose had to be at least quadruple the number he had, which would pose a problem for maintaining a low profile. None of Cato and Gale's plans had allowed for an entire District, neither of them would ever have expected such an extreme move from the Capitol.

He had those more capable of handling themselves prepare the wounded for travel and several others gathering the remainder of the supplies they had gathered, which barely filled half a grain sack. They had no other options, they had to get in to the woods or they would be trapped in town with 30 hungry people fighting over a meal's worth of food. By mid-morning they were ready and on their way. Their forced slow pace grated him despite the need for it, but the journey was otherwise uneventful. By nightfall they had made it, suffering through frequent stops and generally low morale. Greeting them was an empty lake and cabin, with only the disturbed earth, doused campfires, and missing tools to hint that anyone had made it there at all. Cato searched the area, but found no signs of human life around. Whatever had transpired, Gale had either moved on completely or their entire group had been found by the Capitol and taken. The thought sent a brief surge of panic through him before he doused the flickering flames of anxiety. He went back into the cabin to see what tools had been left behind for his use and was relieved to see many of the weapons, fishing poles, hunting tools, and other random tidbits were still there waiting for use. Hidden at the very bottom was a single slip of paper with a note that was both vague and telling all at once.

"13."

Nothing else except for the number decorated the page, but that was all he needed. Relief made him crumple the sheet in his hand, one corner of his mouth tipping up in satisfaction. The group had moved onward to District 13, or where they assumed the remnants of the district remained. Their only hope now was to either find help there or find somewhere safer to settle. In the mean time it was up to him to keep his group alive and searching for the elusive district supposedly destroyed years ago. He only hoped they weren't all about to stumble on to a trap that would destroy them all.

* * *

A world away Katniss lay in bed recovering from the explosion in the arena. Tears swam in her eyes as the news of her destroyed district birthed the guilt now eating away the steely resolve she had been calling upon to keep going. Her family and many friends remaining alive was but a balm to the wound, knowing so many were dead because of the tributes attempts at survival. One thought remained in her head, but asking Gale felt like another form of torture inflicted both on herself and him, as though he was not bearing the suffering as much as she. The question couldn't be stopped though, it was the only remaining hope she currently had left.

"Where is Cato, Gale?" Again Gale got that look on his face, the one of impending doom and discomfort. Another fiery jolt shot through her insides, leaving burning anguish in its wake. She didn't want to hear the answer, she already knew it, but too late to stop him she was forced to listen anyway. This was her doing and she deserved the punishment of acknowledging her part in it.

"He went back for your sister and mother, and then stayed behind to find more survivors. Nobody saw him after that. He never made it out of the district." Gale looked away from her, unable to bear seeing the look on her face, the deep sorrow she felt over the loss of another man. He, too, felt the guilt eating away at her. He had run off with the other survivors, leaving Cato behind to die looking for the handful of people still left alive in the ruins of 12. Had he done it on purpose? Had he somehow subconsciously allowed Cato to throw himself into the danger in the hope that the other would die for his valiancy? Genuine remorse forced his eyes shut, Cato had been so much like him, and maybe in another world they would have been best friends. The Capitol had stolen so much more than simple livelihoods and dreams, the Capitol had stolen even the most mundane of human interactions from all of them and he vowed for the thousandth time in his life to make them suffer the way all of them had. Gale would be the first in line for the revolution to end the Capitol's reign of terror.

Katniss lay in stunned silence, her eyes unseeing at the ceiling, picturing Cato's smiling face during their chats, the ecstasy on his face as they shared bodies, and the loving fear in his eyes the last time she saw him. Never had she imagined that he would be the one gone and her still alive when the Quell had come to an end. He had died trying to save people from her district; people that months ago would have earned only his contempt. That mercy had stolen his life and suddenly she understood every argument that Gale had ever given to her about the Capitol. The people wanted a symbol to rally for, and she would give them that. She would give them everything they needed for there was nothing else she had to fight to keep.

* * *

**I am sorry about the late post! This chapter was very difficult to write for some reason, I seem to be much better at the drama! :) Hopefully the next one will be much smoother. Once again thank you everyone for the amazing reviews! I'm going to start sending some response out to them, you all deserve a personal thank you for taking the time to post something to me. I can do nothing less than give the same back. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again!**


	18. Chapter 18

_"A silent chill an empty room_  
_ And four dogs barking at the moon._  
_ I go out to the ancient street_  
_ And spill my way through scattered light_  
_ The world is shaken at my feet_  
_ It takes me down into the night_  
_ I've seen a thousand suns set into the ground_  
_ Like a thousand born into a single sound_  
_ There are fourteen ways of tearing up the past_  
_ And there are fourteen ways of trying to make it last"_

__Marcus Foster - "Fourteen Times"

* * *

The crowded lake buzzed with quiet activity, the wounded had been given priority in finding a spot to rest before the remaining group members filled in the spaces. Inside the cabin their supplies were kept and the more dangerously wounded kept. One woman in particular lay in the corner, emitting soft groans between clenched lips. Her husband remained at her side for most of the nights, offering his assistance during the day to prepare for the coming journey. Cato eyed her, unknowing of what words would offer her comfort when no medicine could bring her relief. All along one arm angry burns morphed her skin to the point where her flesh looked inside out. This grisly sight was continued along her stomach, hips and almost up to her neck, an accident involving a burning beam falling upon her body. They had wrapped the wounds with as sanitary of cloth as they could find, but all it did was cover the sight from them as no additional help could be given. Instead she was left to endure the agony in as much silence as her bravery could muster. With her husband gone, she allowed herself to vent the torment more verbally than when he remained, pale and sweat slicked, by her side.

Cato moved to her side to offer the only comfort his confused mind would create, but noticed that the groans came from her sleep as the pain invaded even her dreams. His eyes briefly closed in sympathy of her before he left the cabin, unable to remain behind to hear her pained whimpers any longer. Instead he approached one of the other group members he felt a trust in, a man in his late 20's whose family had perished in their home while he was gone trying to barter for needed goods.

"Cillian," Cato greeted with a nod, looking about the clearing. "How is it looking?"

Cillian stroked his fingers through the thick, dark curls atop his head, glistening with sweat in the bright morning light. His shoulders lifted in a brisk shrug before he turned toward Cato.

"We have managed a few animals and a small pile of fish that are being cleaned. The salt we found will work enough to keep it preserved for a short while. No longer finding any plants, especially since no one can figure out what most of it is." Cillian folded his arms, lips pursed in thought. "If we can somehow manage to get just enough to fill in the gaps of where hunting fails, we should be able to get out within the week. As for whether it will last until we get to D13, that's up to whatever fates are the ones toying with us these days."

Cato frowned faintly, digesting the update in silence for a moment before nodding.

"It's the best we have. What about the wounded?"

"There is a young girl whose burns are not showing fast enough signs of healing, a man whose arm appears to be healing well enough but movement is limited, and the woman in the cabin…" Cillian cut off, knowing Cato was well aware of her condition. "After that there is a sprained ankle from a simple folly during the bombing. Everyone else has healed up fine from the looks of it."

"Good. Hopefully most will be well prepared for the journey. Speed and anonymity is the only thing we have going for us at this point."

"Not so sure anonymity is working out for you." Cillian responded cryptically. Cato raised an eyebrow in inquiry, arms folding in a defensive stature.

"Meaning?"

"We're poor, not idiots. We know who you are, especially since you have decided to make a small town your hideout." Cillian shrugged, blowing the matter off. "There are some who are concerned, but most would rather have strength right now than mercy. And since you haven't killed anyone off yet, they're willing to follow you."

Cato lifted an arm to rub his fingers over one eyebrow, ignoring the fading wail of the boy consumed by the fire he had failed to save. "Good. Then let's keep going as planned. It's been almost two weeks since the bombing, either the Capitol is about to return to find survivors or to film their point for the rest of Panem like they did with 13. Either one spells trouble if we're still here. We need to train more people to hunt; watching them shoot arrows into everything but the animal is making my teeth flat." He remarked, forcing his teeth to stop grinding at the memory of so many arrows falling uselessly to the ground or breaking against rocks. Cillian nodded and moved off, gathering some of the more hopeful trainees to continue the painstakingly slow task of showing them how to actually aim and strike their target. Cato watched, imagining the graceful ease of Katniss' arms moving automatically from memory as much as skill, fully trained in the art of feeding her family.

He brushed the thought off, letting her remain in the back of his mind where she had ingrained herself months ago. His constant companion in his thoughts, but outside he needed to remain distant. Life had taken a turn he had never expected and even now he did not know what to do. The role of leader was one he felt comfortable in taking, but that did not change the lack of training he had in the matter. All he could do now was plan as best as he was able and grow from it. The simple fact that no one questioned him at all despite his age marked the hold he could have from his presence alone.

He moved to the group cleaning the fish, showing the tips Katniss had given him, his hands mirroring the phantom ones he saw performing the same task. Many knew how to clean game, but fish were far less prevalent and almost revered. His own stomach rolled at the thought of another diet rich in only fish. Moving closer to the edge of the clearing, he went back to his task of preparing more arrows, knowing they would need as many as he could possible create before they left. This was how several days passed: everyone grinding away at various tasks while the weak and wounded tried to recover as much as their bodies would allow. Inside the cabin the woman, he now knew was Kyna, deteriorated. Her husband remained at her side steadfastly, now even forgoing the chores that had kept him busy as the sun flowed overhead. Now he remained inside, watching over her as agony became all she knew. Cato went inside randomly to check on her, conversing quietly with the already mourning husband.

The last time he entered she was still, her chest moving with such an imperceptible motion that he had assumed her life had already fled. Instead he was there to witness it falter. For a moment she seemed at peace, her body forgetting the torturous burning long enough to turn up loving eyes to meet the tear-filled gaze of her husband, already shaking with sobs. She smiled at him, offering a single soft murmur of love before falling still, her hand relaxing in his and eyes becoming distant, unseeing. Her husband's cries grew louder, tears slipping freely down his face as he closed her eyes and expelled his grief. Cato, feeling like an intruder, escaped from the cabin to disappear into the woods. Another soul lost, more sorrow to add to the cloud above their heads.

That night they held a meeting.

"We will be leaving by week's end," Cato began, standing in the center of the group that had split off into factions based on their opinions. "We can't afford to stay any longer. We will be preparing what we have managed to gather for travel and resting as much as we are able in between. There is no way of knowing how long it will take and what obstacles we will come across, so it is best to be as strong as possible before leaving."

"And what about those of us not fit for it?" A man asked from one side, settled next to his injured daughter who looked as terrified of the notion of leaving everything they knew behind as she was about staying. Cato nodded his understanding but did not yield.

"There's no time to waste. If we stay, we run the risk of coming across the Capitol again. Can we trust that they are done with 12 and won't come back? We are the example set for the rest of Panem: fight and face the consequences or remain like lapdogs for the Capitol. The only threat 12 poses is their ability to incite the others to join. If we stay behind, we will be swept away and discarded to keep the rest in line. But I am not forcing you to do anything. You can stay behind; I will give you supplies to remain fed and sustained. Everyone is free to make their own choice; I don't want anyone coming who isn't invested in keeping themselves and everyone else alive. We need a strong group willing to work for survival, not a divided one staring over their shoulder."

Soft murmurings responded as conversations decided their feelings. Cato sat down next to Cillian, resting his arms on upturned knees as he allowed everyone to make up their own minds.

"Look at you being all diplomatic." Cillian smirked, looking over at him. "For a second there I almost thought you were going to offer everyone who joins us an extra portion of grain and oil."

"Someone has jokes tonight. Better be careful, can't have you spending all the brains you have on witty remarks, save some of it for the problems we still have ahead of us. Besides, everything I said is true. If we have people who come because they have no choice, we're going to spend the entire journey carrying a bunch of weak fools who would turn us over in a second to save themselves or who will get into a mess that could cost lives. I'm not here to save those who don't want to be saved; I'm here to fix what the Capitol broke."

A week later those who had decided to come were packed and bidding their goodbyes to the wounded and loved ones of the sick who had chosen to remain behind. True to his word, Cato left them with some of their precious supplies and weapons to both hunt and protect themselves. With several being hard pressed to be able to fight, he knew they would need all the tools they could get their hands on to stave off hungry animals scenting blood and weakness in the air. Then they were off, using a crudely drawn map they had from memory of where District 13 had been before its destruction. All he could do was hope that it was still there and that they were not on a fool's mission that would lead them all to their ill-fate.

A week passed uneventfully for them. Supplies dwindled faster than anticipated, but skills had increased enough to keep them fed. Wounds were minimal, mostly only tired feet and bruised hopes. But they continued, bracing themselves against scorching sun and steep walks that left even Cato panting heavily from exhaustion. Every day left each of them with questions that remained unanswered as they fueled themselves with only enough meat to keep energized and the dwindling, but still remaining, anticipation of a life that was not ruled by their enslavement.

* * *

Back at the clearing the remaining group members watched as an aircraft flew over District 12. They held each other, shaking and some shedding tears as the craft landed. No bombs fell; no sounds of destruction followed its disappearance. They felt braver, if only mildly, and a growing discomfort at a life not being lived overtook them. They made the journey back to the edge of town, keeping to the backs of buildings as much as possible. The more capable ones trekked further in, trying to find who had infiltrated their destroyed homes when hardly any signs of intruders came to them. There were gasps and cries as Katniss came into view with a bag over her back, alarming her momentarily until she recognized the defeated faces from her former home.

Guards from 13 rushed in front of her, aiming weapons at the starved and sick that quickly held their arms up in acquiescence. Katniss moved them away, shooting glares in their direction before hurrying to the group.

"How have you survived this long? Where have you been?"

"The clearing with the cabin," Sorcha answered, coming to the front of the group with a limp. The young girl's ankle had not healed properly and concerns had arisen that the injury had not been so simple as a sprain. "The tribute Cato led us there. He had supplies for us."

Katniss hurried to the girl, kneeling before her and resting her hands gently on the girl's shoulder, applying no pressure to the already weak frame. "Cato was with you? Where is he now?"

"He left," the girl's father, Malachi, cut in. "a week ago with the rest of us. They were headed for 13. Have you heard? Is it really still standing?"

Katniss, overwhelmed, could only nod. She pointed at the guards who moved to help the group members who, after moments of trepidation, followed into the hovercraft to return with her.

"He's alive…" She whispered to herself, wondering where he was now.


	19. Chapter 19

_"Cities are raised and torn  
Heroes are crowned in thorns  
The meek will grow bolder  
The strong will hold nothing at all_  
_In the rise and fall again_  
_The way we come again_

_Through the twisting and turning and passing by_  
_If you only had known you were there all this time_  
_In the rise and fall again_  
_The way we come again_  
_The rise and fall again"_

The Kin - "Rise & Fall"

* * *

They were getting closer, he could feel it. The forests were thinning, wildlife becoming even scarcer. Their main food source was becoming nonexistent and hunger was a constant friend and enemy to them. Exhaustion was prevalent in their muscles, breath, and bones. Still they continued on, maintaining the meager hope and stoking it like a thinning fire whose warmth chased the darkest of night from their chilling flesh. Even still murmurings of dissention were beginning, how fickle people could be when discomfort prevailed above promised results. He ignored most of the disquiet, concentrating on the poorly drawn map in his hand. According to it they were nearing the border of 13, and the further cooling of temperatures further attested to the end of their journey. Somehow, however, he felt ill at ease. As though the promised land may only belong in tales for children and something darker awaited them.

Cato looked to the back of the ground where Cillian scouted from behind, keeping an eye out for either man or animal that may offer them only trouble. Heavy bags darkened under his eyes, for he had forgone even more sustenance in order to continue feeding some of the younger members of their group whose hunger, though commonplace, was still too much to bear in silence or practice. He also refused to sleep the hours given to him, claiming slumber gave him no respite from the screams of those he had loved perishing in the flames that had devoured their homes. It was partly why he kept Cillian in the back, it allowed him to set his own pace without fear of running into something he could not fight off from the front.

That night the group built a meager fire to chase off the subtle chill of the night, ignoring painfully squeezing stomachs and tired limbs. They talked of times gone by and what their childhood had given them. As Cato listened her noticed a pattern amongst them all… not one spoke of future dreams that had never come true or of dashed hopes in life. It seemed even as children their parents had not tried to instill in them the thought that anything awaited them in the future that they did not already have now. He did not know if that was better or worse than kindling ambitions that they truly had no chance of which to aspire. Cato gnawed softly on the side of one thumb, a habit he had once kept hidden but cared no longer who saw. Flawed though he was, these people did not nitpick his every move as his parents and tutors had once done. Human qualities were commonplace, allowed, and stone statues only thought to be untrustworthy miscreants putting on a show. But that was neither here nor there, for now he was left with one last concern on their journey: if 13 was truly still alive and thriving, what type of reception could they expect upon reaching it? Would suspicion lock their doors to them? Could they hope to open arms and filling meals? At this point even a bed would be sufficient to win him over. He had never thought of himself as a luxury craving being, but now he practically begged for four walls and a roof.

Suddenly the snuffling sounds of a predator reached his ears, causing an immediate reaction in the previously sedate gathering. Two men stood with weapons, standing between the inquisitive black bear that had approached from a rocky hill nearby. Cato wanted to shout to the men to fall back, to let the creature satisfy its need for exploration and understanding, but knew the shouts would only further incense the situation into mayhem. But he need not have worried, for circumstances were quickly expedited into madness when one of the men's spears made contact with the bear's shoulder. It reared back, its 300 pound bulky frame going from curious to dangerous in the flash of a second. Cato noticed the slightly diminished figure that caused its fur to hang looser and he realized the animal was as starving as they were and, now greatly irritated, more likely to attack them out of desperation. The two men, now even more frightened, threatened the bear with thrusts of their spears and shouts of warning. But it was far too late for that now. The roar reverberated around them, shaking through their bodies in the first physical attack it would give. Then the bear was moving, swatting at the man with thick, heavy paws and blunt nails. Cato was immediately moving into action, pushing through the scrambling crowd and pointing them to places where they needed to go and fall, hiding their bodies in prone, unthreatening positions. He slung the quiver of arrows over his back and grabbed the bow, preparing to jump in and end this confrontation.

Then Cillian was speeding past him, knives in hand and face set into grim determination. He leapt between the shaking men, teeth slightly bared in warning toward the bear. Cato grabbed the two fallen men, one bleeding profusely from a gash in his face and arm while the other was still untouched, and shoved them toward the trees where the rest of the frightened survivors lay in weeping lumps upon the ground.

"Cillian, fall back!" Cato ordered as he was stringing his bow, noticing the too close proximity his friend was maintaining before the angered black beast before them. Instead his friend swiped one arm, hoping to force the bear into hesitating enough to move away. The move backfired and Cato was helpless to watch as, over the arrow of which he was aiming, the bear slammed his paw roughly against Cillian's head. The blow stunned his friend into falling over, giving the bear ample time to drop his heavy weight upon his vulnerable body and inflict another debilitating blow to his skull. Cillian's body fell completely still as Cato released the arrow into the bear's neck. All of this had happened in seconds, mere seconds that had changed the entire dynamics of their journey. Another bellow was rendered through the air and Cato strung his bow again, delivering it into the bear's skull. With the bear distracted from trying to hit at the items lodged in its body, Cato ran up and grabbed one of the knives Cillian had dropped. His arm slammed upward, pushing the metal through fur and into the hard, but giving, flesh of the bear's chest. He felt the paw as it struck him, delivering pain anew and the hot stickiness of blood flowing down his neck. But satisfaction was his as the bear gave in to the wounds and fell over. Silence reigned supreme, stillness overtook all. No one moved or let out a sound as they waited. Cato rushed to Cillian's side, putting his finger below his friend's nose. Moments passed without any soft blast of hot humidity against his skin. Cillian was gone. Another friend was lost to him in this world.

The adrenaline seeped from his body, instead accepting the defeat and failure of loss into his veins. Energy dissipated and was replaced with exhaustion and pain. Blood loss made his head feel light and he dropped to his knees, feeling his body totter slightly as his own wounds took their toll on him. A hand fell upon his shoulder, offering comfort. He looked up into the contrite face of the uninjured man who had assisted in inciting the bear into action. Cato used the remaining strength left in his body to shove the man hard and fast, causing him to fall over in surprise on the ground. Cato turned his gaze back down to Cillian's still form, his eyes locked to the sky and his mouth still set from his unrelenting need to protect. He reached down and stroked his fingers over Cillian's eyes, bringing the lids down to leave him looking prepared for his eternal rest. He stood to address the rest of the group who were now slowly rising from their positions to see their fallen hero.

"Catch as much rest as you can. In three hours we leave regardless of who is ready to or not." He picked up the remaining knife from the ground and moved to the bear, preparing to skin it and take pleasure in roasting the flesh of the beast who had stolen the life of his friend. He could not forgive despite the bear's innocence in beginning the altercation and was fully prepared to leave the rest of the body to rot and be taken by scavengers. A hand moved into his vision to wipe some of the blood from his face. With a growl he shoved it away, not even looking up at the well-meaning woman beside him. "Do not touch me."

"Please, you're hurt."

"I said do not touch me." His eyes shot fire up at her as he fell into the role of blood thirsty killer that all had known so well as they watched him in the arena. The woman flinched away then hurried off to help the others attend to the man injured because of his idiotic actions. He could barely stand the sight of them in that moment. Primitive district rats who fell into fear with as much comfort as he into a warm bed after a hard day. They could only be counted upon to cause destruction from their unthinking actions and Cillian lay in a lifeless heap because of their stupidity.

He roasted as much of the meat as he could, eating his fill and allowing those not sleeping to take portions without a word. The rest broke their fast when they awoke. He remained at Cillian's side, looking down at him and knowing he could have just as easily perished this night under the striking blows of the bear.

"I don't know what happens to us when life ends," he whispered down to Cillian. "I don't know if we exist elsewhere or if nothingness greets us… but either one brings the end to the pain of this world. I hope it is such for you, that wherever you are, it brings nothing but peace. And if we continue on, I hope you are with your family living as you should have and what this world could not have given." He bowed his head briefly to the warrior below and then straightened, looking to the survivors.

"We are close. Today, we will find out if this journey has given us a new lease. What you can gather in the next few minutes comes with you; the rest is left to rot." He gathered his own belongings, slinging the pack over one shoulder and keeping the quiver on the other. Soon they were off, continuing north on what would hopefully be the last day of their torturous journey. As time wore on the blood loss became more and more apparent in him, demanding he stop or face the consequences of pushing his wearied body. He did not stop nor did he allow the others to see how each step was like in slow motion, as if cement was thick upon his feet and drying into heavy blocks to render his movements that much harder. The sky went from barely acknowledging the forthcoming rise of the sun with muted tones to bowing down in reverence to the encompassing strength of it. The land lit up and urged them to continue, to understand that the days would continue to come regardless of how hopeless the nights might make them feel.

His breathing became more labored, his gait faltered; soon the others were passing him without realizing and turning to seek out their leader. Dots floated in his vision and he blinked rapidly to try and clear them away. He began to realize he was walking in a diagonal, his entire body leaning heavily to the side and trembling from weakness. He looked up one last time to see silver structures in the distance right before he gave in and closed his eyes, falling to the barren ground beneath.

* * *

Consciousness came to him slowly and in tiny increments. First he became aware that he was lying still on a bed and the sun was no longer stroking his skin with warmth. There was the sound of movement around him, the scratch of a writing instrument to paper, documenting. He forced himself to lie still, taking his own account before they realized he was awakening. A dispassionate voice broke the silence, sounding for all intents and purposes as though she was observing a color variety with which to decorate a room.

"What is the diagnosis?"

"Blood loss, exhaustion, multiple traumas to the head." Another voice responded from the other side of his bed where the scratching sounds of writing had originated.

"Will he recover?"

"It's hard to tell. Injuries to the head are tricky and sometimes symptoms don't manifest until well after the patient has woken. We won't know the full extent of it for weeks yet."

"And those scars?"

"They're older, they appear to have happened months ago."

"That won't do at all. Let me know if he survives the night in one piece. I have some plans for him, but we will have to clean him up. It won't do to have such an unattractive face as the spokesman for survival."

"What do you mean?"

"Katniss has set fire to the hearts of many, but this one down here has shunned the luxuries of his own district and survived the arena when everyone had assumed he had died. Katniss will be the face of the underdogs; Cato will be the one to reach out to the districts who still swoon in joy at the Capitol's feet. But first we have to get that pretty face back again, don't we, Cato? Can't have you looking like you were shoved through a cheese grater and the remnants pushed through a sieve, can we?"

Cato's eyes shot open and looked into the flat expression of the woman hovering over him. She smiled dispassionately, the expression not coming close to touching her eyes.

* * *

**This might be my last update until next weekend. I can't promise an update until then as it's Summer session finals week and I have some tough courses to finish up before I can go back to my fun!**

**I have responded to some of your incredible people, but still have a few reviewers to PM. Unfortunately I can't send anything to guest reviewers, so I will just say here that I appreciate all of you taking the time to read. If you've responded, know I have seen them all and relish every word you all say to me!**

**Hope everyone has a wonderful week and I look forward to this week ending so that I may rush back to this story! :)**


	20. Chapter 20

_"In all the world and all its riches_  
_ You and I have made it through the night_  
_ We will survive_

_ Torn apart by all this distance_  
_ Somehow we have found the strength to fight_  
_ We will survive_

_ Now we're gonna have to_  
_ Spend time to feed the lions_  
_ With the weight of the world_  
_ We will cross the great divide_

_ It takes some time to figure out_  
_ To walk this path without a doubt_  
_ I'll find you there"_

__The Kin - Great Divide

* * *

The moon shone above, piercing tree tops and branches like needles striking the ground. Clouds meandered in the sky, breezing past the glowing orb and casting darkness upon the land at least once a minute. Cato stood in the middle of the field, looking around at the surrounding tree line but feeling no desire to merge in with the forest. Something hid in those trees that even he, after all he had been through, did not want to face. His skin crawled as though an entire colony of ants marched with purpose up his limbs, goose bumps rising in their wake to show off his fear to the world. He remained still, eyes both fixing and rolling on each portion of forest he could possibly get his sights on as he moved in a 360 degree twirl with slow precision. The first one came slowly lumbering from the break of trees, eyes devoid of life bearing down on him as it painstakingly moved closer. He heard the shuffle of its footsteps, the partially decayed flesh slipping and rubbing against itself as pieces fell off in small bits.

Each time the wet plop of skin and tissue hitting the earth reached his ears and involuntary wince contorted his features. But more frightening than the rotting being coming toward him was the eyes boring into his soul and threatening retribution. Eyes he had seen sparkle with joy, hope, malice, and strength. The eyes he had watched release life into the air after her head had been beaten by another tribute: Clove's eyes. Following her leadership, another body shuffled into view, equally as worn down by decomposition and equally as angry about it… Thresh came into sight. All around him the bodies arrived, moving toward him with single minded purpose as hands clutched at air, aimed for him but still too far away. He spun again and again, looking for an escape but only sighting more dead acquaintances and friends coming forth. The boy he had watched die in the fire, Marvel, Cillian… they all stared with accusation shooting straight into him.

He heard the hoarseness as his body forced air into his lungs when the rest of him seemed paralyzed to everything but the sight of the dead coming to exact their revenge. Fear and resignation tousled and wound around one another, filling him until discomfort was all he knew. Yet despite all of this his brain begged him to move, to fight, to save himself from the reckoning that was overdue and inevitable. Cato searched around the ground for anything with which to defend himself and came up empty handed, not even a stone to throw and dissuade the beings from coming closer. Instead he was left frozen, the deaths at his hand or from his neglect the only company he would have forever more.

In the last moments he witnessed Katniss' figure emerge from the group, the beautiful grey he had lost himself in so many times fled from her gaze and overtaken by unseeing white. Her hair had fallen from her head in chunks, leaving bits of sickening pinkish-grey behind over spots of emerging skull. Inside his heart raced, dread and sorrow reigning victorious within him now. Cato closed his eyes, welcoming the end that was befitting his actions, unwilling to continue to watch this thing she had become any longer. AS the musty, thick air of their exhales lit over his flesh, Cato gave in to the urge to curl up and await his fate. In the back of his mind he heard a harsh beeping growing more insistent, overtaking the grunting of the approaching bodies. Louder and louder the sound became until it was all he could do not to cover his ears from the torture of it. Suddenly his eyes flung open, the harsh lights above stinging his eyes and making him wince even as the beeping continued, reflecting the racing of his heart.

He felt the cold sweat sheening over his skin, sticking his body to the sheets of the bed. The beeping of his heart monitor continued, belting out like a tommy gun and sounding equally as affronting. The sound of a door opening caught his attention, forcing his eyes open despite the offending lights. A nurse came in, frantically rushing to his side before realizing his eyes were open and responsive. She emitted a quick breath of relief before beginning to poke and prod at him.

"I'm fine," he grunted out in irritation, wanting nothing more than to push her intrusive hands from his body. She continued her inspection anyway, ignoring his protests as though he was silent or even welcoming them. His eyes narrowed and fixed on her, focusing an intensity in her direction that had her pausing immediately. "I said I am fine and I won't repeat it again." He growled out with a quiet authority, causing her hands to move from him in order to fidget with the clipboard attached to his bed.

"Yes, right….okay…." She blew out a breath before pushing the clipboard back into its holder and, finally ignoring her sense of pride, fled from the room with as much dignity as she could. Relieved he still had enough heat in his eyes to spark the necessary fire under other's asses to remove them from his presence, Cato glanced around his room with irritated mumblings. The heat caused by the nightmare was seeping from his body, allowing the soreness to move back into the forefront. Used to the pain of overused muscles, Cato ignored this easily and continued to look around before spying the chart the nurse had so readily pushed aside before her flight. Forcing his body upright, he leaned forward and grabbed the chart, eyeing the standard vitals and reading further.

"Concussion, lacerations, contusions, blahblah…" He shook his head. Been there, done that, had the scarring to prove it. With those words in his head he looked to the bottom of the page and his eyes involuntarily widened.

"Candidate for reconstruction… positive? The hell does that mean?" He frowned, searching through the paperwork further but finding no answers on the given pages. He dropped the board on the bed, searching around for further clues but only managing to tax his already overworked body. The doors flowed open, capturing his attention as the woman walked briskly in. Her hair was perfectly coifed and he wouldn't doubt if it was plastic, not a single hair was out of place, and her outfit was simple and crisp. Her eyes fixed on him and, once again, he was the focus of a stare lacking in any real empathy or warmth. Cato almost wanted to shrink back a little, but fought the emotion in order to stare back at her, their gazes warring, fighting to be alpha.

"Reconstruction?" He inquired, noting her face didn't change at all at the accusatory question.

"Your face is too damaged for our purposes. If we don't fix it, you'll be useless for our cause." Cato's eyebrows raised at her response.

"What cause would that be?"

"To get the Career districts in to the battle against the Capitol."

He paused. It was what he had been fighting for all along… a battle against the Capitol that would free everyone from tyranny to live life as they were meant to. Life wasn't meant to be easy, but it also wasn't meant for this slave-like existence. Yet as Cato looked into the steel eyes of the woman he had come to know as Coin, he couldn't shake the feeling they were trading one horrible existence for another.

"If I refuse?" Another cold smile crossed her lips.

"I wouldn't recommend it. There's more at stake than just you…" The threat loomed over him, but he said nothing. No one knew of his relationship with Katniss and his family wouldn't life a finger to fight for him. There was nothing but his own existence to use as leverage and he wasn't one to back down and shake in his boots for his own safety.

"Not very convincing of an argument." He leaned back in his bed, the vision of nonchalance and comfort. Coin said nothing, only lifted a finger in the air, whirling it in a brisk circle before re-folding her arms. Immediately a group of men broke into the room and slammed him back down to the bed as he rose to defend himself. Cato fought as viciously as he could, but several pairs of hands worked and pinned him to the mattress as the nurse from before came back into the room. It was impossible to miss the glint of triumph in her eyes as she measured the needle before stabbing it unnecessarily roughly into his arm. Within seconds his vision was less clear and the people holding him felt somehow even stronger.

"Like I said, it wasn't a recommendation. But we will work with it. I'm sure you'll let us know as soon as you're awake again. Don't struggle too much." She crooked up an eyebrow at him before turning to leave. He didn't have time to try and interpret her words or their vague meaning. Instead he found himself falling into a black abyss where even dreams were unable to penetrate.

As consciousness began to return to him pain was all he knew. Fiery needles were stabbing his skin by the hundreds, spreading agonizing flames over every inch of his face, arms, neck and chest. A guttural scream forced its way from his lips, but he was powerless to fight the onslaught. His head was restrained with heavy straps that were replicated over his arms and legs, effectively holding him as still as a statue despite his body's attempts to struggle free. He opened his eyes to see the contraption moving over his skin, needles moving rapidly over his skin like a tattoo gun. Where the machines had already been his skin was already crusting, bright red with blood as exposed tissue tried to protect itself. A nurse, different from the first and alerted by the heart monitor, approached his bed with a needle already prepared. He barely felt the sting over the assault he was experiencing and welcomed the bliss the drugs offered.

When again he awoke there was no one in the room. His body, once again sore, was wrapped in thick bandages devoid of blood and looking as freshly white as snow. He fought off the grogginess of forced sleep, his eyes rolling in an effort to focus. Eventually the fuzziness leeched from his vision, leaving him staring around the room and waiting for another attack. Nothing came, no one entered his room, and except for the strong smell of a salve emitting from underneath the bandages he could sense nothing else being done to his body.

That was when he heard it… the softest movement of fabric and stealth. He tried to turn his head, but still strapped down, was left only able to move his eyes enough to see the ceiling and tops of the walls. Instead, she leaned over him, meeting his gaze with her soft grey eyes full of compassion and ire.

"Katniss…" he breathed out, staring up at her. She looked at him as though she wanted to touch him, but was unable to find a place for her gentle hand with so many bandages coating his body.

"Cato. I didn't know you were here. No one knows you're here." She whispered, her fingers finding his only uncloaked hand and taking it, her fingertips stroking softly over the back of it until he could practically feel his skin purring at her touch. "I just happened to be hiding when a nurse walked by and said your name. I followed her here. What have they done?" Her hand lifted moved to his bandaged face, touching something and snatching it back at his hissed intake of breath. "Sorry…"

"It's okay." He reassured quietly, falling still again as peace restored within him over the pain of her careful touch. "I'm just glad to see you're here, you're okay…" And it was true. The long separation had only instilled in him more deeply that her very presence kept the darkness of his personality at bay. The longer she was gone, the more angry he became. Already he felt a calmness in himself that had been absent since that goodbye at the fence. He moved his hand to take hers into his, reveling in the warmth of her finally touching him again. "But are we safe here?"

Katniss bit her lip, an action that would have brought warmth to another part of him had he not felt so battered and beaten. Her shoulders lifted in a subtle shrug.

"I don't honestly know. Everyone here is healthy, everyone contributes equally and is given what they need…" She trailed off, catching his attention with that as much as the disquiet in her eyes.

"But…?"

"There's something about Coin. I don't know if I trust her. There's something about the entire setup here that I just can't get past." Her words were whispered directly into his ear, the heat of her breath teasing him before he pushed past his male urges.

"I don't trust her any more than I trust Snow. But I haven't seen past this room to get a feel for what she is planning. Eyes like hers aren't dead to the world without a reason though. She has the same nurturing capabilities of my father." Cato looked to her, still unable to stop himself from simply taking in her face and wanting to cradle it in his eyes as he took her lips with his own. "Undo my ties." Katniss nodded, moving to do as he asked. It was then that approaching footsteps caught their attention. Quickly Katniss backed away from the task.

"I've been watching for days. I know their schedules. I'll be back tomorrow…" She kissed his hand, lingering her lips against his palm before escaping from the room and leaving him at the merciless hands of the nurse that entered moments later. Her eyes gave away no clues that she had seen Katniss and he had no doubt she had somehow managed to get by undetected, but for how long? He submitted himself to the nurse's ministrations, trying to hold back the groans of pain as she checked his wounds.

"A few more days yet and your pretty little face will be worth looking at again." She smirked at him as she fixed a fresh bandage to his head.

"Too bad they haven't worked out a cure for yours." Cato barked out, his teeth clenching as she yanked on the end of the bandage she was taping down. She finished her task with a scowl at him and left, her head lifted high as though uncaring of his barbed words.

True to her word Katniss returned every day and he learned to tell the time of day by her approach. Each visit brought less pain in his body and more reverence for the sight of her. She told him of the arena, the events after she had been picked up, and what life was like in District 13. In return he regaled her with tales of his own adventures, of the people he had tried to help. He found out they had been sequestered away from everyone else and not allowed to mingle with the rest of the population.

"They're telling everyone that they're making sure none of them are infected with anything. The people are hyper sensitive about that as they lost a lot during an outbreak before. But I think they're trying to keep news of you quiet until they're ready to use you for their purposes." Katniss said, sitting beside his bed while they clasped hands and rested their heads side by side on his pillow.

"Are they trying to use you as well?" Cato asked, his eyes fixed on her.

"Yes." She nodded, slight distress in her gaze. Anger slipped hot through his veins, but he checked it and refused to allow it power. Until he could explore the district he was powerless to understand what could be done. And the longer Katniss rested so near him the more he craved more than just news of yet another predicament in their lives.

"Take off the bandages from my face." Cato said gently, staring intently at her. Indecision was worn heavily on her face as she eyed him

"Are you sure?" He bit down the worry that he would be even less attractive before and nodded, knowing he needed the stifling heat of them to be free from his body. With slightly trembling hands she began to gently remove the bandages. He felt none of the tugging of fabric glued to open skin and was relieved. As more and more of him was revealed, Katniss' eyes began to grow more heated. Soon his face was free of the constricting fabric. She reached to his face and brushed off pieces of loose skin and he reveled in her touch. He said nothing, too nervous to ask.

"Delicious." Katniss finally said as she took in his face, her hand not moving from his cheek as she savored the softness of his new skin. Cato closed his eyes briefly, desire blooming at her touch. He lifted his body and pressed his mouth to hers, demanding and taking the delicious flavor of her lips without warning. She gave him this freely, moving herself closer to the bed as they gave in to the need for comfort from one another. They were so wrapped up in the heated kiss that they did not hear the warning of footsteps or the gliding open of the door.

"Interesting." Coin's voice interrupted them, her face unchanging as the pair broke apart to stare at her. "So the girl on fire has no desire to heat baker boy's oven." She smiled slightly at her own joke, one of the few times she expressed genuine emotion in his presence. "What a fascinating turn."

It was then that she fixed her triumphant gaze on Cato's, speaking more with her gaze than she could have with words. 'I've got you now,' they said to him, 'right where I want you'. And with a heavy dread in his stomach, Cato knew she was right.

* * *

Hello everyone! Thank you for sticking through my long hiatus! The semester is over and my grades came in very nicely! Unfortunately I start school again in another week, but I will keep writing through the semester.

Hope this chapter was to your liking ;)


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